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m
1
" Familiar in their Mouthi as JTOUSEIFOLD WOJRDS."~snAmmtrtAai
HOUSEHOLD WOEDS.
|i oBulih louriml.
CONSUCTKD BY
*t.
CHARLES DICKENS,
VOLUME Tin.
^tto gDik:
PUBLISHED BY McELRATII AND BARKER,
No. ir SPRUCE STEEET,
•l8E4.
n
CONTENTS.
2%< SOf^ Ihnmbtr fat ChrMmat, "Anonm Roosn er STOStcs by Tvb Ciibdtvai Fiss,"
fmni on pag*i 109* lo MS* tnelutitt.
I
< (
ABrt-Ann im.) TTAloiSfl . .
A' 11 for Quiilsuoea
A ....
^. lu Trade Ui .
A'\r\r..'. !t-:i<! . . ,
AlVtran ZTpbyra
Air Miil» . • . .
Altnola, An Enrtliqanto ID
AlfailD* Ann}-, Z*ph]fni of
Alw(jr> l.'<ilco<l
Amtrtri, S«(ll«r» In .
Amlrnt ....
Alimns Ihf" flh»ll<n>» .
A:r -'.■■■;
>:. ...
'I
Kranca
" lit
i-.if
! al Stmm
Complaint of t>i« Old Macietta . MO '
'" : • ■ ''''(O . . * . 4'":
. \ti Adri'nfiirerin i"'.'
!■ • ■■ rut 41;,
• ■.. ■ t- .:, I. . , . 49
.... . ■., . , . . 3.^
*e»
MA
-at Ul
M»
817
n
SIS
l!41
so'
4TH
49
43
C
13«
BiDi
Beef
Blank Bolilen in Tarlt
Blankslilre H.<un<U, Tbo . .
fiunr* r»nnil at Uxford . &%
Uoek* fur M»nehest«r . . ,
Borttcr ottha BUck Swi, A
Bottlril Inr»riiutlon . .
Boaaiicia
BrazIliaD In Bloomtbtuy, A
BrtllluU DlA|<Iay sfFlreworki .
Bucburest
Bulcarla . . SOT, MS. STS, i
Bull* And ISean . . . 'jVi
Br D*v,k to Hclbl . . MS
BJrron'K DncrlpUon of the C«d-
deuuaUun of a I'li/ . . 444
( • .lit .
< -tt rUcu* at
I iM<trw(
La" »trti ....
CnltW Show at Bakar Straot
C«nirht In B Tvplioon
l-li:iii:;o r,l .v,r
I'lteaUiutt, The Bnck of .
Clillilrxii
OUUd a llUtory of Enclaotl.
Its. ato, UO,
OblnMc TltTcn
Clil|>9 194,SUT. 281, SOJ, Saj,
OhrUfma* fTewenta
I." " .VD. K .
I XIalorjrofa
I t;n
« hCenslnftoa
( 1 1 for a
■ j;l«terail .
ibiisaiaor
. . ITS
. 1S4
. «T
. 407
. 8S6
. KT
, 4a»
851,433
. 4(16
. . 074
. 4«a
, . K»
0». ll«,
307,800
. 'SI
4i4. 47«
O'fl, S83
. . 4&i
. MTi
. . 8M
. 83»
. . 15
. 407
. 477
. SM
. . 4<9
. 100
. . 44S
•Dt
:i.-iluro
! Svilenliam
iaiiM3 .
Dacdamllxi, Tlie . .
t'T'L T "■•!- in India .
I' .- at tlie Morms .
" . . . .
II ■■■. . . .
1' 1 'VAMcmblrat
I' . . . .
I).- ... ..umu .
Diggtr'f, Diarjr , , , ,
niofinin. Krum SrilnaT lo Ibe .
I)H-..|„ ■-, .\ l',n(„. , .,,>h0 . .
I) lM«n .
I> ' - rt
t>,i^,, . ... -.^ ..^.....roof
DM
Hi
27
416
191
Kit
«
8tS
817
418
iia
S25
Girni()iTA.KE In Albania . . 3.1S
K'lltor'a iioom. An ... 810
RlwaMaaSQuare, Kcnalocton . 8'ifl
Kzypt, A Freicli Seltler In .
Elplijnitniie, Mr. Jninfa
Embaulvs ami Atlat^hta .
rriii:-r.,ii,.n. ilurernmeot
, . 14
433,5*8
. . 48
. 185
■r.The . . . ITS
-..(Idlearortli, Tho lit
LAl;,^ III SlbtrU . . . . bU
Exploded UagailB* . . 90
FaIKlB^ Tlie Qaeen of tbe
Falr/lanil lo 'tUlj-four .
KajliloD
Female I.lfe ami Wrltlnff In tlia
OMen Timei ....
Fire and Snow . . , ,
Klrew»rk\ Tlie Manufictur* of
FInii Niglit In Melbourne . .
FIrat Suit o to Auatralla .
Flea* in Turkey . . . .
FInwrr Ticl'i . . . .
y ■ -iTaa . . .
457,640
518
1<.»8
191
4«1
46
8
49
4I«
108
S80
Bti)
Fns'iis at i'\r,>ril . . 68,909
Foundlin?* of Paris . . 870
Fraud* on tlie Knlrteo . . 97
French Armr, Z«nliyra of the . 145
French Miu«ier, Mr . . S«l, 849
Freni-li .Setiirr In Kgypt . . 985
French Workman . . . 199
FTf« Library at Mancheatar . 877
Frozen and Thawed . . . B.18
Fiiclnlii, tli^tory of tbe . . 196
Fur Trade T 449,471
Qmi Cooklne Apparatna . . 885
Gentleman Daber In 1611 . . 516
Olioal of a Lore Stvry . . C59
n!io>tlr FnntenilniM .
iiri-nr jiiii.ui m iiM-»::iik,Tlie .
Orent i*»dd!ow"rtli EthlMlnn .
Great ^l>ll: I..ake, Newt ftucn Ui«
Great Screw, A . ,
Opek Knstar at Conatantinopl*
Greek Keaal ....
Groerennr Eaat Isdlamao, LoM
of the
OuIUvat'a, Mr., EBtertalomuat .
llALr-a-Doxm T.«eehea .^^|
Halaetrell Kaat IniUainan, Loti ii
nf llio .... 4
Ilarmnnloiia Blackamllb . . 4
Ilaruiunium, Tbe , . .4
Hay Attliins 41
H«lf«iit.Tlio Carnpat . . 8'
Ilrr .MiO«t>'> ^rvlrs . .488,01
llUtory of a Cool C«II . . 81
lloiiae A^tenta . , . S
riouae that Jack built . . SI
TIorM Gu[ir4a Rampant, The . 41
IludMin'i Uav Company, Tbe 449, 4'
Huf^iii-nola, ftlorlet of tbe . , •
lliintlni; In America . . ,4
UyJo I'ark Corner . . . S
Ta!(o«i.tOonclactor»Xobleinan 41
Incbl^al't. Mre. . . 15, S79, 8!
[q llie r>ar<lnnellM . . .81
lndl«,Tli« KeveniieTkepartmeolof I
■ ■■ ~" •" ■ ■ 4
a
«
91
H
India, The 8teani Wlilatle In
India, Travelllnif In
Indiana and the Seltlera .
Influenxa, Tbe .
Inoa , ■ .
Iron IIouMs ....
Iron Incldenta
Iron 8canMlje.«a
Jtw< Harp, The
Juatlce la I'uaUbmant .
KEvaivoTOX
KenalnKton Chnreh
EeBilngtoa Wortbien
Lasim' Aaaembly la the Oldmi
TImea . . , .
Lamp* iif the Anclenta
I.nllc«^Illro WlloUcraft
I.anna Tixel ....
Ij«w anil Ita Care for Women
J.eailen Cnfflns ilinnd In tlio Ab-
ber of 8t Pcnla .
T.ear llrom tbe Farbb Register
Leallier ....
Leeches •
I.ettrra U) H^iphle
Lleht of other Dayi
l.llMi>ClilMrc!i .
I.ltlle ItcimtiMc
Lireaof I'laota .
I/>(3ki'.l Out .
Locust Hunt. A .
LmU'ril In Neweate
I.oiidi>n and Is'ortb-Wealera B«U>
w*y
i
r
*
I
CONTENTS.
Lou of the QRWrvnor .
Lou ot tb« UalMwall
409
4tl
410
MAOAXDrBfortbaTrarlTW. . II
Vbu^a 540
UAlMhlM 91
liUocbwter M<n at tlielr Boolu . STT
IhpkoftbaAIr ... . ]tf
Uarjr-Cel! in St^rU . . MS
UaiUr of lbcOerfinoni«i,Baold 626
MuwlD, Th» IlQcbeu of . . IT
)Ierbonrne,Th« ]^ne Night in . 8
Mona^cria Id Paris, A . . . 64
Merebant'i Hcu-t, Tb« . . 54
Uiffbtr Huoten ■ ■ ■ . 44<
HiMlnn S88
Model Lo<ls1ti(( Vooica . . . S86
Modoni Iliinuc SaoriflcM . . S61
Ifodcrn Pnuitoe of Phytic . . IM
MoMo-W«U«bla . . . B4
ltor« PlMC* Wanted . . )M
Uorgos, The . . IM
Uonnos^ The , . V»
Morton Hall. . 965,S«8
Mr. WiMman in Print . . . tg»
Mr Frecoh Uaitar . . .Mt,t88
Mrtilene aW
NKAi-oLtTAH Purity .
Near ChrUtmas . . . .
Needlewomen . , . .
Newgate, Imprtioiied la . .
Newtpaper, Editor's Room
News Rooms
Nll^ A Little Repnblie on the .
'Nlnetj-elgbt, a MasulDft of
Nobleman. Ignoble Condact of a
Norman Story
North Ooontrr Couiteiles .
North- Vest P■M■c^ The
Ntyrth-»''csterD Railway .
Northern WLiard .
Nothin: Like Leather
Number Forty-two
Orrl OffI .
OldBoDes
Old Settlers of Tenneaae* .
On Her M^^esty's Berrlca
Only an Earthquake .
OtiBlrike
Oat fur a Walk .
Onr Wine MeivliaOt
Oxford, Klephaat'a Bonea at
Oxford Foulla
6T1
ssr
ST5
t
840
88
384
SI
iVt
78
191
S49
411
SS.V
AT
17
. 443
. 88
. 1S8
4U,fi33
. 185
. OSd
. u
. 41W
. 8-i
. 209
Pau.iiki'b hnntln; In America 444
PaBtomlmes a Century Ago . 89T
Pepier-Mache Houiea . . . %^
Paris, Blank Bablee la . .370
Parish Register, A Leaf ^om . 4ST
Patent Oorkterew Company . 48!^
Penny News Booms . . . (>3
Phalansterlan Meni^rerle . . (U
riiarlMeA anil tilnoere . Vii
Phvslc. Tho^Iodern Practice of 160
PIruit-Ceii, The . . . . 4S4
Flays Condemned . . . . 448
FortRQOntb. The Doebeu of . 13
Pot and Kettle Plillosopby . . 418
Praatoo. The Strike at S18,65.1
Prinoa d« Tc&d6ma . . . SA5
PtattRM of the Cxar ... 84)1
Provisionally RrglsUred . . 469
Punlabnicnt, The Ineqoallty of. S8S
Qimci Mab
r*««
45T,M)
441
RaiLWATa, Opening oC In India
Railway, London and North-
Wulem . . .413
KtJiwar in Snow . . . 481
ItoulyNVlt 583
KegtMratiiin 489
EcKular Trappers . . . 4T1
Keportets, Dullee af. . . . 841
ItoelrrDclani, Lampe of tba . 1S5
Ronen 410
Roving Englishman :—
AtConstanUnople . . . M4
And tbePriDcedeYeodAma S.iS
A Greek Feast . TO3
Greek Eastar . . . 4t;
Royal Adversity . 4.tT
Rupert's Land
RuBlaa Btranmr
Rutefim Outle, A
4»>,4n
. . 91
Obest Story of 598
fljiOK of Cbeatn nt>
Saddleworth Exhibition, The
Bailor's Orieraocea
Banllary Improvement .
Bcandale Hoosa
Bohool-keeptng
Bclanee and Bophv
Beraw Pivpeller, The
■eHutiaaa, The Iron
Beeaonabie Oaina .
Benslble Town .
Aenlimeatal Oeograpby
Seraphlne, The .
Bfalpwrecka
Shipwrecks, Ineidents of,
Siberia, An £zUe in
Slang
Slatae . ...
Bbow on the Railway
Snowdown
Splendid Match, A .
Stags nn Change
Standing on Ceremony
St. Denis, The Abbey of
Steam Whistle In India
Stereoaoope, The .
Stook Exchange, Tba
Stop the Way Company, The
Btoriee of the Hogaenots
Btovaa and Gratea
Btrlka at Preston .
Btyrlan Mecca, The
Sunday at Tattaraall'a .
Ill
4S4
ton
M6
4W
086
181
575
4.14
801
806
401
581
410
W8
T3
. 481
. «
. ISO
. 4T0
■ Dfi8
. II
. 440
. 87
. 817
449.471
. 848
888
84«,&&8
. Ml
. ISS8
TaaaA.<nA, Origin of the Kama . 808
TatteisaU's .... 888
Taylenr, Iavm of the . . . 588
Tennessee, Old Settlen of . . IBS
Ten per Cent. Songs . . . 84T
Theatrical Failure . . .441
The Comer 889
Tilings that Caonol bo Dona . Ill
Too Lata 548
Traits and Stories of the Hngae-
nota 848
Travel. Incidents of . . ,400
TribnnaU of Commerce . . 100
Troy, The Plains of . . .881
Trust and No Trnfit . . . 94
Tuclced TTp .... 414
Tnrkey, Fleas in . . . 416
Turks in Bulgaria . 857,848
Two Conslns 148
Typhoon, Canght In a , .177
roiT Norellng ,
Unspotted Snow
Va.u.oina ..... Ml
Van DIemen's L«ad. Tha DIM6-
verer of |0<
Tama 878
Tolcrs nrom the I>ee|^
Walk, Walking tn , .
Walea, SlaU Quaniaa In .
Watlachia, The Olpeey Slave* d
Wallaehlan Sqolfa . .
Want Placea . . . .
W»% I'lowen . . . .
Why niv Uncle waa a Bachelor
Wedding in illgb Lift
Wllkiais House In Kensington .
WInda, The
Wines
Wiseman. Mr., In Print
WUard. The Northern . .
Workmen In Franca
Workmen's Dwellings . . .
M
488
198
tM
lis
89T
188
199
18«
Torn Tery Good Health . M4
ZmiTas of the French Amy . 143
POETRT.
BaLia, The .
Bran , ,
Bright Little OJrl, The
CMUtrt, The
Echnas .
OobUns of the Marsh
Gone
Ilolldari
Laily Hcrtba .
Lady of the Fen
Ijunent for Somroer
Life and De<th .
Miasma .
Mooorisa
Motlev . . .
New-Vear's Ere
Now
Old London Bridge
One Spot of Orern
Pictnree in the Fire
Preaton Strike Bonga
Sung for November ,
Btarlleht tn the Gardes .
Ten Per CcnU .
Wishing
. 445
. 179
. 816
IS
491
IS3
M7
M«
810
IM
80
A48
St
A3»
418
sot
M6
. 86
848,558
. 9T8
. . 108
. 847
. . 864
CoxTKKTs orTBKOmaiBTMMNraBn.
Tn» Schoolbov's Story
The Old Lsily^s Story
Over the Way's Btoty
The Angel's Story
The Squire's Story
Uncle George's Story
The Colonel s Story
The BchoUr's Story .
Nobody's Story
409*
, 4I8«
. 417*
. 4K*
. 410*
, 488*
486*
440*
449*
I
" Familiar in tfuiir MotttJu at EOUSEITOLD WORDS." -
HOUSEHOLD WOEDS.
A WEEKLY JOURNAL
CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS.
You vin,
MoELRATH «t BAIIKER, PUBLISHERS
Wbojlb No. 180.
LODGED IN NEWGATE.
Police Constable Ktggs, when he put liis
hand upon my shoulder and infonned nie thiit
he had a warrant for my apprehension, causfd
mo to feel sick at heart In face and voice he
seemed to be the most repulsive of oil mortals.
I must go with him he said, to Bow Lano
Btalion-hou.se. I might go home for Imlf-an-
hour and explain matters to my wife ; but
the night I must spend " locked up." As wo
went along he advised mc — supposing I
might be deficient in tact or feeling — how 1
could best break the news, so that the sud-
den 'blow should fall as lightly a.s it might
upon her. I think when we got home that,
with an ea.<fy soothing way, he really did help
yniy efTcctively to comfort her.
At Bow Iwino — tha charge against me
baring been entered, and the contents of
my pockets cnlratited to the inspwtor on
duty for the night — I was locked up in a cell
containing only one other person—" highly
respectable" they told me. Ills snoring was
not interrupted by the cla.«h and rattle of
doors, bolts, and keys, upon my entrance ; and,
as ho occupied the whole of the narrow
bench, which was the only available bed, I
took my boota otf and walked up and down
throughout the night. A small gas lamp in
a niche at the top of the wall (lighting two
cells at once) enabled me to sec that he was
a homy man who had done rough work in
the world. Towards morning he awoke .ind
saw mc : " Halloa I" he cried ; " what time
did you come in ?" " Between cloven and
twelve." " Drunk and riotous, or incapable '<"
"No," I replied. "Oh!" he said, "some heavy
business p'raps. Well, /'m in for forgery."
He got up and wallcL-d up and down, and
told me a wild story of his former life, to
which I gladly listened as a break on my own
painful mcditjitions. At eleven o'clock the
oflkcr carac for mc, and conveyed mc in si
cab (paid for with the money that had been
found in my pockets) to the Man.'iion-house.
Through the d»rk j)ai<st«ge under the Police
Court I was ushered into an apartment like
a vau't, lighted with gas, though there was
Oie bright noon of summer flooding aJl Iho
streets ouL-fide. The vault was crowded with
policemen in uniform, among whom there
irere also somu ofBcora in plain clothes,
and two or three minor officials of the court
above. The warder of tlie place — a tlmroughlj
kind-hearted man, dangling a hijgc bunch of
bright keys ujion his finger — led me down a
passage to the left into a corridor, along the
walls of which were iron cages, like the dena
which eontinc beasts of prey at the Zoo!<>gical
Gardens. Into one of these he locked me.
Otiur prisoners were brought aflerwards
into the cages, so that we soon came to bo
rather closely packed. A luigc gas burner
glare<l upon us, and the place was very close ;
but there was nothing in tho air half so un-
wbolcsomo as tho wandering uO <:raDCC8,
"The voices and the shadows,
And imiigea of voice,"
which filled my ears with the knowledge thai
I was among people morally degraded. Old
offenders winked their recognitions to eajh
other; men — self-occupied, as is the w.ny vritii
nil the ignorant — talked of themselves to
their neighbours ; discussed crime as a calling,
and their chances of escape, or tho character
of tlieir several convictions, as a set of fiirlncra
might discuss their prospects for the harvest,
only with less decorum and more mirth — a
very ugly liiirth. Levity was the prevailing
habit. A quiet-looking boy asked in a meek
voice, as the warder pa.ssed him, "Oh, if you
jilense, sir, might I have a little drop of
water?" Everybody was at once struck
with intense thirst, and the joke was relished
all the more as there was only one tin can to
supply the whole. It was handed round, and
even' one praised the ale, declared it was in
prinie con'dition ; some adding that they
would " tick it up this time," but th.at the
next time they happened to bo passing they
woukt be sure to call in and rub oil the score.
My solicitor having come down we held a
conference, lie told me that, ntthongh — as it
w.'\s in due time shown — I had been accusea
of a grave crime hastily and in error, he shoulc
apply for a remand ; for he would be unable to
meet tho charges against mc cirectually at once.
I expected iuunediatc liberation on bail; and,
as I drtaded no stain wpon my character, con-
sidered that my trouble w:i3 already over.
After the magistrate had taken his seat, and
the fonns proper on opening the court had
been completed, tho various officers came
down, ready each at tho fit time to uocage bl
\
s
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
lOoMlMUd >
" cnscs." Mine wag the second case called. I
followed Mr. Keggs up an extremely narrow
Staircase ; and, waiting at the top of it for a
niinnte or two, saw that a trap-door was
raised over my head, through which I was
to be wound up, like a stage ghost, and
quite a.s jiale. I made my first appearance
as a ])ri.soncr in the dock, and stood before
the rulu-K and chains of City magistrates.
My mouth was dry, and I felt faini I
scarcely heard the case. I saw, as through a
mist, a witness at the witness's rail. I heard
persons on my right and left speaking loudly,
as it seemed, against me ; and a quiet, resolute
voice, which seemed to speak on my behalf.
In my confusion I could not tell to what end
the proceedings tended, until I caught the
words fi-om the Bench : " Well, if all parties
are agreed, I see no reason for not granting
it Let the case be remanded until this day
fortnij,'ht."
Then my thoughts dwelt upon the prospect
of imuiedintc delirerance. There was more
talking, and whispering, and consulting on
my rifilit hand. Every man engaged in it
was irksome to me, for prolonging my deten-
tion as the mark for a vague crowd of staring
eyes. The voice from the bench was again
audible to me : " Oh, decidedly not I cannot
think of accepting bail. Bui is out of the
question."
Before I had attached a meaning to the
words titc trap was raised, and I was being
hurried down the narrow staircase. In a
minute or two I was again locked up in the
den with my old companions, who received
me with a simultaneous pull of long, commi-
serative faces, meant to bo comic«L
"You can have a cab if you like" — of
course, out of my own funds— " instead of
-.iing with the rest," said Mr. Keggs.
" But where am I to go to !" I asked in
bewilderment "Where is Mr. Bartle, my
•olicitor ?"
" Mr. Bartle will b« down to speak to you
directly."
" And then t"
" Why, then you must go to Newgate."
I was taken to Newgate in a cab. In the
entrance-hall of that dark buiKling I was oiH-
dally delivered over to the warden ; who, with
ft cheery comfortable face, suggested thoughts
lather of warden pie than grueL
"Prisoner on remand, said Mr. Keggs,
handing to him the committal from the
Mansion-house.
Having asked me a few questions formally,
to satisfy himself that I was the person speci-
fied in the document, and having inquired
whether I had anything in my pockets, he
shouted once or twice to some one who was
slow to come out of the innermost recesses
of the jilace. His voice echoed among the
labyrinth of passages, beating itself against
the thick stone walls, until another voice
came echoing an answer to it In a short
time a man appeared behind the maaaive iiOD
gate, and threw it open with a heavy sound,
terrible to one who had not been scared before
by anything more wretched than an unoiled
bedroom hinge. " Here's one for the remand
ward," said the warden. " Very well," said
the man, who was in no good temper, " come
this way." I shook hands with the officer,
and felt, when he departed, as if I had
lost a valued friend. He would meet me,
he said, at the Mansion-house, punctually on
the appointed day ; talking of it as genially
as if it were a dinner appointment Then,
as admin strator of my funds, he gave to
tljc warden sixpence wherewith to buy for
me postage stamps, and left me to make
myself at home In Newgate.
Strong and stony as the prison seems to
passers by, it looks much stonier and stronger
to the men who enter it The multiplicity
of heavy walls, of iron gJUt* and doorways ;
of huge locks, of bolts, spikes and bars" of
every imaginable shape and size, make of the
place a very nightmare dungeon. I followed
the gruff under- wardcL, through some dark
and chilly vaulted passages, uow turning to
the right, now to the left We crossed a
large hall, in the centre of which is a glass
room for the use of prisoners when they are
giving instructions to their lawyers. When
n is so used, a prison ofScer walks round and
round it, seeing all that may take place
within, but hearing nothing. In another
passage was a small recess, in which three or
four under-wardcns in their regulation uni-
form were dining. One vacant seat, with a
half emptied plate before it, let mo know
why my guide was not in a good humour.
Sad I arrived ten minutes later, he would
have been, I do not douot, in an excellent
humour. Still following; I was led into
another large recess or chamber, on one side
of which was a huge boiler with a furnace
glowing under it, and on another side a large
stone bath. On the third wall there were a
couple of round towels on a roller, with a
wooden bench beneath them. " Stop," cried
the warden, " take your clothes oflf." I hesi-
tated. " Take oflFyour clothes, do you hear?"
My clothes were soon laid on the bench, and
a hot bath filled, and I went in. The ofliccr
had then his opportunity of taking up my
garments one by one, searching their pockets
and their linings, feeling them about and
holding them against the light My boots
appeared to bo especially suspicious. After
he had put his hands into them, he thumped
them violoatly on the stone floor ; but there
rolled nothing out Having bathed, I was led
down another passage, at the end of which
were two gratings of iron bars, closely woven
over with wire-work, distant about two feet
firom each other. Unlocking both he pushed
me through, and started me up two or three
steps into a square court-yard, where ther*
was a mar x alking to and fro very violently
After shonting " One in I" he locked the two
gratinga, and retreated rapidly in the directioB
Ckarfia IM4«M.]
LODGR, IN NEWGATE.
of his dinner. Another warden witl. « ouncli
of koys came from a glo<jmy building that
fortned one side of iho court " Go up," he
said lo the pcdi'^striun ; who disappvureU up
a stiiirciue imstantly.
" Where turn you from f" the jailor asked
tno, and " W'hnt JU'y you here for f" Being
rcplii'J lo on ihiau points, he snid sJ)orily,
*' Corue this way." Hu led up the dark stonv
Btaia'»<<u to m corridor with cells on one side,
haring iron doors to thtjn a foot or more in
thickncsK. One of those culU wna to bo
mine. Venturing aa I wont in to ask
" Whether I might be allowed to walk in the
yard when I pleasetlj" he answered sharply,
" i'ou'll just please to walk where and when
you're told." He sliiinmed tlio door, bolt«d
it, locked, and piidlo<'kcd it.
""►w cell was al)out eight feet by four,
lighted by a I'^ophole above eye-level. It eou-
tained, besides an iron bedstead with a straw
inattres.s and two eonrse rugs upon it, an
unconil'ort«ble Ntool and a slanting reading-
detik fastened to the wall, on which were
a Bible, a prnj'er-lwok, and liymn-book.
Alone (or the first time since my apprehen-
sion, I stretched myself upon the bed ; and,
with my hands over my eyes ondoavoured to
collect my thoughts. I was Hoon aroused
by tho undoing of bolts and bars below,
while a stentorian voice shouted from the
vard, " All — rlown I" I heard the cell doors
being opened in the corridor; and, in due turn
mine waa flung open, and the Jailor looked
in. The imprejsvion my body had left upon
the rugs enrnged him dreadfully. " What,"
he crie<J, almost in a scream, " you've been
a lying on that 'ere bed, have you I You ju.st
let rac catch you on it again till night, that's
all!"
" Oh," I said soothingly, " I didn't know.
Now that I do know, I will not lie down
again."
" If I find you on it again I'll have you
up before tlic jrovernor or stop your supper.
That's all. Go down."
In tho yard I found nine fellow "remands;"
two or tlirec of them well dressed, the others
ragged. Those who were ncur me ."tsked
piu^iculars about m\"8elf, and were commu-
nicative about them.selvcs. We fell into line.
An iron gate was unbolted, and nt the same
tim« there was a cry of "Hats olfl" The
govM i 1 red, with the head w.ird en and
It .'11 luiel. " Have any of you any-
thiiifi I'j ^a^ to the governor?" asked the
trirden. The governor himself repeated tlio
question, and at the sama time looked at us
critically, There wa.s .«ilcnce, and the gover-
nor departed. We returned then to our
celk ; and, for the rest of the afternoon I
remained undisturbed, except by the clock of
St. Sepulchre's and the occ-asional shout of
•* Ono in ;" which let me know that time as it
passed on never tbimd Xcwgnte idle.
AuiiOBt simultaneously with the striking
of five from St. Sepulchre's, I heard the
shout of " Gruel I" followed by a clink of
cans and spoons. My cell w-ts unbolted,
anil there wa.s handed in to nie a tin of
smoking gruel, and a pie<'e of dry bread.
I am not squeaaii.sh, but I could not eat it
I kiK'W that my wife with our home walla
about her felt more desolate than I. I left
my gruel and my bread, after a vain .■struggle
to eat them. In a short time the Jailor came
and look away the can, ordering uie down
for a half hour's walk in the j^ard.
Just before locking up for the night at eight
o'clock, the cell doors were again opened and
the prisoners invited to drink from a bucket
of water, by tho help of a little can. Chain.%
padlock.s, and additional bolts noisily ad-
justed, made all safe for the night ; and, when
the work of listening wa.i finished, the head
Warden came tlu°ough the silence with a
measured tread, and, raising a little peep-
hole in each door, bade "Good niglit" to
each priiioner ; awaiting a reply, in order that
he might report to tlie governor that all
vras welL Until six in the iut>mLng all was
quiet.
The somuls of keys and bolts arou.scd mo
in the morning. I hud some c.Tj:iericnco of
soldiers' beds and how they are made ;
and the Newgate beds are of the barrack
character. Hearing my neighbours who had
made their beds u|i cUnnsily .sii.irfily ndnin-
ni.shed, I packed mine up in military style
before the jailor eaiiio to me. He looked sur-
prised and gratilied. The order being " ''lo
below and wash," I obeyed it, and washed
with the help of a bucket at the cistciu
ta]3 in the yard and a very small piece oj
soap, finishing oil" with a towel that had
been moile very damp by having gone the
rounds before I took my turn nt it. When
I came bade, the Jailor — who had not lived
down his admiration of my bed-nuiking — •
took me to a cell not fKr from 013' own and
bade me teach that shiftless Hilson how to
make up a bed, exhorting Bilson at tho
same time to heed the lejison. Bil.fon of
course introduced himself to me with tho
questions " When are you going up?" " What
are you in for ?" &.C., which stipply to New-
gate prisoners such a topic as the weather is,
to men out in the free air.
1 was glad to get with my gruel and
breail, at half-past seven, tbo informatioD
that if, when my friends came to see roe,
they left any money with the porter at
the gate I might buy myself provi.sions
out of it. Of course there were restrictions.
Cold beef and mutton were admissilile, pork
and veal were excluded. I could be allowed
a little butter or cheese, but not cgg.s and
not bacon. There is a person, I was told,
just outside the g.ites who regularly supplies
prisoners in Newgate for whom the door-
keeper has funds in trust, with the regula-
tion comforts, including coll'ee and rolls la
the morning, tea and toast ij the afternoon
There was inciderital relaxation also, aa I
\
HOUSKHOLD WORDS.
iC^vitaA V
I<»'«nd, connected with this arrangement. All
those who are victualled by this worthj man
arc allowed to leave their cells and to go into
the corridor where he serves out prison luxu-
ries. Then for a minute or two rapid con versa-
tion could take place among us ; hut, if it
were protracted half a minute heyond the
time sufficient for the drawing of our allotted
portions, the stem voice of the jailor waiting
to lock up again made ua run like rats into
our holes.
It hehig the first day of my residence in
Newgate, I reccivctl a visit from the doctor,
who made diligent inquiry on the subject of
my hc.nlth. Soon afterwards I was sent
down, with all the others who had come in
on the previous day, to sec the Ordinary in
the vestry. Through an intricate stone lahy-
rinth, by aid of numerous directions shouted
out hy tfio warden, we found our way into the
comfortably furnished chamber at the foot of
the chape! stairs. The Ordinary .sat in a
large easy chair at a bible covered with
papers, anJ he wa.s backed by a large book-
case, on the top of wliich were proper New-
gate ornajncnls, consisting of casts of the
features of men who had been hanged, I
fonnd him kind and gentle. Ho inter-
rogated mo as to the charge which was
entered in a book before him; conversed
with and advised mc for a few nunutea
in a considerate and humane way, and sent
me back with a iiampblct which he con-
sidered suit.nl )le to iny condition. It was en-
titled \ Warning of Advice to Young Men in
the Metropolis.
In the exercise yard I found all the ro-
Toandcd prisoners turning out for chapel
p.arade. There was a gentlemanly young
man who pos.scssed a clothes brush which
all — down to the most ragged — were s<ili-
dtous to borrow. The desire was for some-
thing to do, and there were great brushtngs.
Thnt young ninn had been in the remand
department for three months or more, on
suspicion of having been impltoatfd in a bank
robberj'. Ho went out at last with a clear
character, the police having in his case been
on a false scent, for even police sometimes err.
There was a showy foreigner anxious that I
fihnuld tell him — as I was a newcomer — what
the public thought about his chances of
acquittal. There wero some boys accused of
larcenies, perverting the light-hcartcdness of
childhood into a play of wretched raockerics
and jokes, not checked by the authoritativp
" Keep (juiet you there, won't you ;" but
greatly promoted by the smile into which
now and then tlic jailor was betrayed.
Tlic part of Newgate cliapel set a.stde for
the congregation differs of course in its
planning from any church or chapel nsed by
people who have liberty to come and go.
There arc only four pews, separate and far
apart. One is for the governor, one for the
head warden or deputy governor, and the
Other two, one in each gallery, for the
sheriffs or City authorities who came at specie,
time^ : on condemned sermon Sundays for
example. We wero marched across the
chapel to the cage set apart for remand!) ;
which is in close contact with the governor's
pew, and I observed that the jailor so
formed the line of our proces.sion every
morning that the well-dressed men of our
party were placed nearest to the dignitary.
A black veil from tlie ceiling hung before the
gallery above us and concealed the female
prisoners. The lock.^ of our cage having been
fastened, and our jailor having seated him-
self so as to command a full view of all who
were in his charge, the convicts in their grey
suits were marshalled into a cage opposite to
ours. _When they had been locked up, some
other prisoners were brought into the body
of the chapel and ranged upon forms. There
came a fine-looking old man who walked
with an air of great conscf]ucnce to a seat at
the communion rails. He proved to have
been a prisoner for some years past, a col-
lector of taxes who had pocketed the public
money. We were all so well classified in
chapel that remands before committal, com-
mittals awaiting trial, convicted and sentenced
prisoners could at a glance be distin-
guished from each other by the governor or
chaplain.
t'haplain and clerk being in their places,
the governor entered his pew ; n prison Itird
silting behind me, wanted to know whether
be had his boots on ? Yes, be had. " Then,"
said the wliL-cperer, " he'll visit im after this.
When he is not going over jail till afternoon
and keeps to himself all morning, he always;
comes to chapel in his slippers. I've not
been here a down times for nothing. I can
tell you." After prayers and ps.ilms wc had
a sermon on the lesson of the day, in which
we were not specially addressed as sinners,
but as dear brethren who were to avoid sin.
I was struck by the force which the whole
boijy of prisoners threw into hymn singing ;
the jailors led, and there was scarcely a
pri.soner who did not take the opportunity
to use his lungs. The hymns were really
well sung, but my experience among tlws
denixens of Newgate made me feel vexed at
the hollowncss of adoration .so expressed. And
yet, what would one have ? Even such
shows may lead the way to something more
substantial.
After chapel service, we were marched
bark to our wards : I, vritli the new ai-rivaJ»,
being fiT-^l t.iken to the governor's office and
paraded there l>cfnrc the door, near the great
entrance pate. We were called in one by
one, ."tnil fl)und the governor sitting on the
table, having a warder before hira witl>
writing materials, and a book in which ho
wrote what was dictated to hira, Looking
stedfastly at me, the great authority ?<fer
us rapidly dictated the description of my
person I "Light — grey- small — short — no
distinguishing:" the iag> words, I guppoi*^
.AfcfM D.44MM.]
LODGED -N K^WQATK
meant tliat I ha<l no mark upon mo br which
«I might be nt once identiticd. '* W hat are
you i-h:irg«d with J" " Ever in gaol before?"
Then 1 waa measured by t'<e standard rule,
(I had bcrore been measun^I in the station-
house,) and dismissed by the governor trith n
sharp reproof to the warden for having brought
inu before him in a higlily improper slate
(I had a tiro days' bcani). IJu wa; S) see at
once and have me cleanly shaved.
Next followed the "ninety minutes' wnica
to me were all the day. I had been lockcil
up only a short lime when I was unbarretl
and onlered to " the grate," at which I had
been left by the first warden yesterday. It
was the place for seeing visitors, and there I
found my wife. The comfort and quiet of the
other prisoners and prisoners' friends, who
formed two close 6Ies opposite each other
with the space between the two gratings
parting them, was disturbed that morning.
My dear wife crietl loudly the whole time.
The head warden came to her, and with a
kindness not to be forgotten, begged her
"not to take on so, it would be all right"
Then he brought her a form to sit upon, tell-
ing her she would find it tiresome work to
stand an hour and a half on the cold stones.
When the two gates were opened that the
bundles brought by visitors mig}it be passed
in, he made her advance half-way through,
that she might shake hands with mo. ilis
.eart was not of Newgate stone.
Indeed, T found that while there was a great
deal, especially among tlie under- wardeiLS,
of the i-oughness that they considered neces-
sary to discipline, there was no lack of a
right human feeling anywhiTe. The hour
and a half of interview at the grate, from half-
past ten to twelve for female relatives and
friends, and the hour from one to twi o'clock
for male friends, were always full of noticea-
ble scenes, that on ihe whole were to the
ctod't of the people concerned in them. tMdy
ODi' visitor was allowed to each prisoner at a
taaf ; and, considering the pressure for front
ptacc.4, that was a fair rule. At the grate,
prisoners of every grade jostled one another
vigorously, and the confusion of tongues was
terrible, Some visitors were sad, and came
weeping or dejected ; others, at home in
Newgate, sought to encourage their caged
acquaintances with rude fiin. The turnkey
of the ward favoured us sometimes with his
company and exchanged recognitions with
/iimiliar "-eople; adding a contribution of
good-humoured turnkey jokes. It was worthy
of observation, that altliough there might be
tears seen and regrets heard, no wife ever
reproached her husband, no mother her son,
no sLstcr her brother. It was not the time
for admonition, their hearts knew. With one
exception the same right feeling was shown
by the men.
A young man guilty of a small cmbeMlc-
ment, who ha<l given himself iirto cu.stody,
Dad been brought iota Ne«ga^£ a day or two
after my arrival, and made all night sacb
dreadful lamentations in his cell, that at ch«^
pmrade vvc all had to compare notes ahr', .ur
broken slumbers, lie was walking f and
down the yard with his Cice buri« in his
hands; and, at chapel, groanc-i so mv ch be-
fore the arrival of the Ordinary, thtt tin
warden sung out, " You had better, I think,
fitop that cat's noise here, you sir I" The
next morning he told mc that he luid expect-
ed his brother, but that nobody bad been to
see him. Ho wanted to see his brother very
much. That afternoon while I was at the
grate talking to a friend, a sedate-looking,
sanctimonious, well-dressed man arrived. It
was the expected brother. He did not appear
much atfectcd, and addressed his repentant
relative in a way that made the turnkey
stare. The turnkey always came to have a
thorough look at a new visitor. " Well, sir,"
said the good brother, " so here you are, and
here of coui-se you shall remain. I have
just come; not because you sent for mc, but
to say that none of the family will have any-
thing to do with you." The cai;taway had
no answer, for he was groaning and lament-
ing; but the turnkey shouted after the
righteous one as he was departing, " I say,
sir, you must send him a clean slitrt and a
collar, and a bit of a hairbrush. And I teli
you what, he don't relish his gruel ; so just
you leave a shilling at the gate to get liira
soiiicthiiig better."
The brother was exasperated at the impu-
dent demand. " Prison fare," he replied,
" is good enough for him, too good for him.
I'll send the other things, if you assure mc I
can have them buck when he is sentenced.
Arjd mark me, brother," heaiid, turning with
fifrce deliberation on his old jome play-
fellow, "if by any chance you should escape
punishment, don't como near any of us.
We'll have nothing to do with you. The
sooner you get out of the way ■Jic better.'
Shouldering his umbrc-n he 3iai-.bed off, ana
the turnkey speaking fCT the Givi imie gen
tly to the youth, stud, "Come nowl up to
your cdl, there's a good fellow I You «nntod
to SCO your brother. Now I hope you're
HatisBed."
The chief event of the afternoon in New-
gate, next to the constitutional walk in the
yard, is being locked up in a large cell on the
ba.Su' .XT' «v > with pen, ink, and paper.
The . we wrote ieiiers which a turnkey saw
us sign and marked vv'lh his initiiJs ; they
were then take i. h« ! .«d by the authorities
before they were pustea. i*^'vaf'*inuu> ^ whs
locked up with one of the manj j<tiM)ncrs who
could not write, or even 'iictate sensibly ; but
such men never would allow that it vrna pos-
sible to make their meaning cl(.a:fr than they
made it, by another than their own appointed
form of words.
When being escorted through the pa.ssage8
to the glass-room for interviews with mjr
toUcitorj I used oftca to meet a Qum carrj^tg
i
HOTTSEHOLD -WORDS.
(OnrfHMkf
wine bortlci .n a basket, and wondered who
It wfiK that had so large a traffic to and from
his cellar T found out that the bottles con-
ained ^a'.A draught and physic for the
prisr .v-rs, and then my interest abated.
At last the morning came on which I was to
be again taken to the Mansion-house. Before
breakfast, I was got up for the event like a
jchool-hoy who is wanted in the parlour. As
' had never shown any symptoms of a desire
Co defeat the ends of justice, I had been trust-
ed with my razor, and allowed to shave myself.
The warder, however, lounged against one of
the window-sills in the yard (the barber's
•hoj)) the while, indulging in gruff but well-
meant remarks on the young men who had
come under his care. On tliis particular
morning he was more than usually chatty.
*' Ah ! I have known some first-rate men m
here ; and enjoy themselves very much, they
did. Poor fellows; all their troubles com-
menced when they left here. That's the time
— you'll find that when you get out. Every
man that looks at you a little harder than
usual in the streets youll think knows you
have been in Newgate. You'll think every
one knows where you've come from ; and, sure
enough, its wonderful what a sight of people
do find it out" He ended by hoping ho
Bhoulil not see me back again in Newgate.
Soon after morning chapel there was a cry
heanl of " Send down them remands !" I was
taken down with half-a-dozen others, and
paraded in line waiting for the van. When
all was ready we were led through the long
dark ])assagc to the entrance-hall. The
warden at the gate, having seen that we were
the right persons to go out, required me to
enter my naVne in his account-book as an ac-
quittal for his disbursements in the character
of steward to my funds. The great iron gate
then !^wung upon its hinges, and we passed to
the van one by one through a lane of curious
observers.
The van contained separate cabins, with
swing shutters to the doors fastened by but-
tons, and all opening into the central passage.
A yoinig man, "very faint," requested that
his shiiltcr might bo left open. "Yes," said
the .seijeant — " then you'll be all talking, yon
will." — " no indeed, sir, wo won't, I assure
you. Do let me have it open if j'ou please,
sir." The plaintive tone prevailed ; and, af-
ter the van door was locked, the young man,
putting out his arm, unbuttoned the other
eliutters, and a romp began. Jokes were
bandied, arrangements and appointments
made in the event of release, and the great
game wa.s for each to lie in wait watching the
otlier shutters, and be ready to box the ears
of any one who popped his head out In
that sitiiit of levity young and old men, ac-
cused of grave offences, went to trial. At
the -Mansion-house the hand of Mr. Keggs ap-
peared at the van door ready to help me
dowv. That amiable friend bade me good
day, and took me to the cage again.
^==.^^_- -
I did not reappear in Newgate to add to
my experience a knowledge of the kind of life
led by committed prisoners or others in a lower
deep — the convict department I have told
my talc simply as so much experience, and
have no desire or talent for constructing any
theories upon it
A DIGGER'S DIARY.
IN OCCASIONAL CBAPTERS.
September 7th. — So, here we are at last, in
sight of Australia. That faint grey some-
thing, seen through the worst of weather, we
are told is Cape Otway. AVhat a time wo
have had of it these last three weeks. It is
all over with my Diary, as indeed it has very
nearly been all over with everything else
in the Rodneyrig, ever since we passed the
little black rocky islands of St Paul's and
Amsterdam. If I ever again take to keeping
a journal, it must be on the plan of no-plan
— I mean of no sort of regularity as to' the
intervals.
The condition of our cabin — our berths —
every cabin, and every berth in the 'tweea
decks, no tongue can tell. All washed oul^
and everything left, not high and dry, but
moist, rotten, broken, trodden up, strewn
about, and turned to rags and slush. The
grand summit of all our sea-disasters we
reached on the 10th inst — was it the 10th or
the 9th, or the 7th? — oh, I forget, but it topped
everything. We had gone to bed during
gales, and got up in the morning to find a
storm, to say nothing of any of the roaring
hours between, for some time ; but one doy
we had a hurricane that never ceased for a
minute, so that when it grew dark wo all fair-
ly turned into our berths to avoid being
knocked and battered to pieces against the
ship and each other, and there we all lay wide
awake, listening to the various effects — such
as roarsL howls, hisses, gushes, creaks, clanks,
shrieks, flaps and flanks, rumbles and falls, and
sudden shocks, with the steadv. monotonous,
vibratmg drone of the migntv wind holding
on through all. without intermission. Thif
lasted in all its fbrce through the night, tif
from sheer exnaustion by attending to it }
dropped off to sleep. Sometime bctweet
twelve and two I awoke with a st-irt, cau6e<
by a loud and violent booming blow, followed
by a rush of water, which came dashing
down the main hatchway, and flooding aU
the 'tween decks, every ^bin inclusive. A
lurch instantly followed, ♦rhich sent all the
water swosh over to the other side of the
ship, but this seemed only done to give a
more vehement impuliHi to the counter-lurch
on our side, the roll of which went to such
an extent lower and lower that I thought
this time at last we must go clean over, and
while the result was yet suspended in the
darkness, down came rushing to our low
sunken side an avalanche of all the moveabl'
contents of the entire 'tween de(^'> -<:ooki>:
A DIGGER'S DIARY.
f
tins ani\ aockery, w*«hing things, all loose
articles of ever \ ii, witli Uo^cs jors,
and tubs*, and k in rurnitnri; burst-
ing away from till ir i ! -i' mugs, tlilNiilgll oaliin
doors, and Urinpinj; many cabin doors and
panels ftlonp wiili lliem, togetiicr with the
heavy cra-iiin" liuk-hway laddt'i-s — in one
treincnd.jiis avalanche, catiir.ict, and chaos,
like (lie total dusti-uction and end of rII
IhiiiL--'. It was 80 !?uddcn, so roraplcto, so far
1 ill wk liad previously experienced,
J. . r, that it produced for a second or
two a. lUad silence. The suspense was mo-
mentary, for out of that sileiice there nrose
one loud, unnnimous, spontaneous, simul-
taneous hiiaa ! from nearly every cabin in
the 'tween decks, just as though we had re-
ceived Iho tlr>t bronrlsiilc of an enemy on
going into action- This is literally true. I
ftJt proud of my countrymen. Most of us on
our tlrst voynjje too. Certainly we English
wore meant to V>e a nation of sailors.
\(\th. — The foulest weather of the whole
voyage was in tlic Indian Ocean, when we
vrcrc first nearly abreast of Cape Lewin, otf
the invisible Australian coast. Our boos'n
said he Kinl been out here fourteen times,
and always had a storm off this coast. The
booj'n A lirst-ratc sailor. Had two holes, and
one long rent in his blue trowscrs — the
largi-st pati.'heil with a great canvas heart,
the ne.\l with an anchor cut out in leather —
And the long rent was covered with a
Turkish scymetar, also of canvas. But here
■we wen? at last ncaring the " Heads," and I
did not care how soon I lost sijj;htofall these
potty olvjei'ts and interests of the stupid old
Ro<iiicyri;;. Took pilot on board. Crowd
BOrroundL-d him with eager looks and fjuus-
lions. Pilot said grulHy at once, " iVll rtcht
as to the gold — now, I won't answer another
question. Haul up the mains.ail!"
11 fA. — Hobson's Bay. Who would have
erpccfed to see so many ships/ Could not
h ' '■ '' vz a momentary ahirm, lest all the
L 1 have been pickc4 up. Hut the
(,(,,!•- ,.,...^.^l all empty, deserted, as we pa.s.sed.
In one there seemed to be nol«nly but the
captain, who was Icanin-:; discon.solntcly over
the side. Others showed no signs of life at
aiL On lliis deck perhaps a hoy, or that a
dog, but peiicmlly no moving thing at all.
Fell that if the gold had been picked up ever
BO extmittvely, at least it hod not been carried
KKny.
A row on deck between passengers and
Captain V'eiinysage. Hobson's Buy was not
Melbourne — yet ho declarexl he had no rnoro
to do with us now, and that v;e nni.<t gel
ashore in tnKits, how we could, at our own
expense. We learnt from the pilot that the
cbaiges of boatmen for passengers and b:ig-
ragc ashore, were most exorbitant, and no
help for it. How wc raged at the ca[)tatn 1
We all execrated Saltash and Pincher 1
\2th. — Tliirfy shillings for every forty cubic
feet of luggage by the steom-tug tliat took us
ashore, measured by their own off-hand men,
besides paying for our own pas-sage. Nobody
with all his luggage, sck that we had this to
go through several time.'. Steam-lug calling
at all maimer of vessels by the way, round
about and in and out, made it dark w'».in wo
were landed on the wharf In a few minntcs,
to our surpri.se and dismay, the air became
dark — ^it was nigid, and the rain began to
fall heavily. Rain had fallen before in the
day, and all under foot was mud and slush.
Most of their higpragc all the passengers had
to carry or drag ashore themselves ; the rest,
excepting what was carele.isly left behind by
the sailors of the tug, was bundled after us,
pell melt. Cattle would never have been put
a.shore in so reckless a manner. There wM
not a single lamp on the wharf, nor even the
temporary help of a lanthorn. Fkixes, bales,
c.ises, frajrmenls of m.tcliinery, bundles of
diggers' tool.'f, merchandise of all sorts burst-
ing from their confines and being trampled
into the mud, men, women, lanic families,
with the children all cryinji, now a dog
running between your legs, now you running
up against a liorse who had also lost hia
master, and all this in a strange place, in the
rain and dark, and nobody knowfng anything
yon wanted to know, but retortinc ]ireci,sely
your own question in a wilil tone — especially
'" Which is the way to the town f"— " Where
can we get lodgings for the night ?'' — ^" What
on earth is to become of our lupgage ?"
Arrowsniilli,by agreement, had rushed ashore
directly we touched the edge of the wharf, to
go up to Melbourne and try and find lotigings
for u.s, which we knew must bo no easy
matter. T had lost Waits in the scramble
and confusion. I saw no more of either of
them all night. In the miserable conipjiny of
some forty or fifty passengers by the Roilncy-
rig, and another ship that had fust sent a
cargo of ffirlom wretches ashore, I jwsscd the
whole night on the wharf, stantling with my
back against a large packing case, and
occasionally lying with my hand and elbows
upon it indulging in no very lively train of
refleciion. I wa.s very wet and cnld of course,
but not ^o cold as I had fancied I should be.
About daybreak I discerned a larce rusty
boiler of a. steam engine (one of the numerous
piccesof machinery which for want of cranes,
or other apparatus, besides labourers, had
been left, ns I subsequently found, to rot on
the wlmrf), and into this boiler I crept, and
coiling myself as nearly into a ball 9& I could,
gave a sigh, and went to sleep.
2+i'/(. — ^HoiTible b-id cold, aches in every
joint of my bone.-*, more rain, wandering aboul
on the wbrirf searching for our luggage, with
no breakfast, everybody rushing to and fro
in a scrnmble., anil nobody able tonnswiT any
question, orrefusingtoUstena moment Ahont
nine o'elo<'k, the sun came out bright and hot.
Saw Arrowsmith hurrying along covered
with mud, ami followc<l by Waits with a
bloody nose and one of the skirts of hia
i
8
HOUSEHOLD WORDa
tOH<M<*4IS
coat hauging in shreds. They would answer
no questions, but cried out, "The luggage I
all the things 1" Oh what a job it waal
The^ accuse me of deserting the luggage, it
was they who had deserted me I Found most
of it, and in a pretty pickle. We had to
carry it ourselves up to the town, with the
exception of a large heavy chest of Arrow-
smith's which we left at an old shackety shed
of planks and dirty canvas called a "store,"
for wliich he was to pay ten shillings " en-
trance," and half-a-crown a week.
Went to a one-storied, yellow-ochred, im-
pudently squalid place in Flinders Lane, a
sort of gin-shop, beer-shop, lodging-house,
eating-house, and coffee-shop aU in one,
where they also sold potato^ tin-pans, and
oats, outside at a stall, and bought gold to any
amount Here (our luegage being bundled
into a muddy yw^i at the back, where there
was already a chaos of boxes, bundles, and
rubbish) we got some very muddy coffee,
with the chill off, some remarkably dirty
brown sugar, stale bread, bad potatoes, the
filthiest knives, forks, and table-cloth the
house could afford, and a huge dish piled
up with at least nine or ten pounds of
smoking hot fried beef-steaks. We were all
fiercely hungry, from what we had gone
through since yesterday afternoon, but the
hopeless toughness absolutely made us all
leave off wiUi aching jaws long before our
craving was satisfied. We finished, therefore
upon stale bread and potatoes, with some
rancid butter, and lots more coffee. We paid
8even-and-sixpenco a head. I asked to be
^own to my bedroom, and was answered by
a grin from the bearded brute who con-
descended to act as waiter pro tern. " You
see it before you," said Arrowsmith, " and
here" (tapping the table) " are our bedsteads.
They will find us blankets of some kind or
other." I asked him if he and Waits had
slept here last night He said no, ho had not,
and he now proceeded to tell us (he and
Waits having lost each other) why he had
not returned to me on the whari^ and what
had been the adventures of the night I shall
give it in Arrowsmith's own words, as nearly
as I can recollect
THE mtST KIOHT n HELBOURNX.
Everybody, said Arrowsmith, from all I
can hear, is astonished and disgusted with the
first night in Kelboumo ; but the first night
of the arrival of three ladies, perfect strangers
in the place, will show the extraordinary
state of affairs hero in a peculiarly strong
light
Arrived in the town, I at once began to
hunt for lodgings, and went from street to
street in vain, till at last, finding a house
where they agreed to find room for three more
— dead or alive, as the landlord invitingly
said — I was on my way back to the whu^
when who should I see paddling along in the
mud but oar fellow panengera^ Mrs. Watson,
Miss Dashwood, and Mrs. Pounderby, who had
very knowingly left the Rodncyrig with the
earliest boat, in order to secure lodgings
before they were all taken. They came
luckily without any luggage but their night*
bags. They had been from house to house
almost, and during six or seven hours had
been treated with such insult or unseemly
ridicule at nearly every door, that each
fresh application — which they undertook in
turn — had been a greater effort, they said,
than going to a dentist with an aching tooth.
It had rained more or less the whole <&y, and
they were wet to the very bones, as Mrs. Wat-
son expressed it Mrs. Pounderby was cry-
ing — indeed they had all cried several times
in concert Captain Watson had come ashore
with them ; but, never dreaming of this diffi-
culty, had gone to dine and sleep at the pri-
vate house of a merchant in the bush, with
whom he had some business. And here they
were I They besought me not to leave them,
as they were sure tiiey should be all dead
before morning. So of course I could but
remain with them, and try after lodgings
onoe more.
We renewed our inquiries — ^humble solici-
tations, preparatory overtures, cautious ad-
vances If I had had you two fellows with
me, it might have been managed more than
once, but directly they found that women
were in question (the term ladies was aliso-
lutcly dangerous to breathe, as it instantly
received an inverted interpretation from thjcso
brutal householders) all hope was dashed out
in a moment I ought as a gentleman — as a
man —to have engaged in five regular fights,
besides countless tortures of passive self-com-
mand, in consequence of the atrocious, un-
manly, ten times worse than black savage
replies that were made to my request touch-
ing my three dripping, bedraggled, half-
fainting companions. The answers— divested
of all their gold-mania ferocity — were to the
effect that they wanted no women or children
here, and they might all just go to a place
which the speakers considered infinitely
worse than Melbourne I Well, these things
are not merely accidental adventures — I
know that numbers have experienced the
same — they are historical, and very bad bits
of history everybody must admit them to
be.
By this time p<y. r Mrs. Pounderby, being,
you know, very &t, was sobbing and puffing
as though she would burst — and no joke to
see, though ridiculous to relate. Mrs. Watson
with her hands clasped, continually referred
to the Captain dining in the bush ; and Miss
Dashwood, having good Irish blood, still
tripped along, sore-footed as she was, with
tears in her eyas, but saying that surely, per-
haps. Providence after all would stand their
friend. Now, in my own mind (I could have
made that giri ari offer on the spot — ^but that
by the by), I had fully prepared myself for
passing the night in the streets. I irent oo»
OicWM.)
A DIGGER'S DIARY.
pretcD<V:ag still to look for lodgia^, but in
reality I was looking for a dry archway, or
other covered place with a moderate draught.
£ach of the ladies h/kving a cloak or shawl,
besides what they might have in their night-
bags, I thought they might mauagc pretty
well considering.
>ViiiLe lookijig out for such a place, aad
coming upon nothing but hideous lanes of
mud and rubbish, I was beginning to think
we must contant ourselves with getting under
the lee of some lonely wall (at the risk of
being robbed and murdered — of course, I kept
this Cuicy to oiyseli), when passing the door
of a long shed-like house, a t«ll man smoking
a short pipe, said " Walk in, mate." To this
polite novelty I was about to respond with
alacrity, but the fellow spoilt it by adding,
"Oh, you've got women with you!" and
turned on his heel. But catching sight of a
woman imdde whom I took to be his wife, I
instantly went in and accosted her, rcprc-
seuting the predicament of lu}' fair com-
panionii, in tvhich I was immediately sup-
portcil by all three in dcspuiriiig tones
begging the mistress of tho house to give
them siiclccr for the night. The woman
BL-cmed rather moved by tins case of real
distress, but s^'d she had no room, "Oh,
put US anywhere! — anywhere!" cried my
poor dripping companion.^. The woman
hesitated, and as wo renewed our entreaties
at this glimpse of hope, she went to speak
with her husband. In a few seconds bhe
returned, saying she thought it could be
managed ; ."v " stretcher" would be put up
for me in the lodgers' room below, and my
friends could sleep " in the place above,
where they would be quite safe, and to them-
selves." Rejoicing at this, and with a. thousand
thanks, we bade each other good night, the
ladies foUoning our kind hostess along a dark
passage, and I, groping my way as dirccte<I,
towarJs a door on the left with a light show-
ing through the chinks.
I advanced by a descending foot-way of
broken bricks and slush till I arrived at the
door, and pushed it open. The room was a
large one, for Melbourne, and as it lay about
a foot and a half lower than the street, the
whole surface was literally flo<Klcd by the
day's rain. This was the lodgers' bed-room.
It was lull of stretchers — some thirty of
them — with blankets, or rugs, or other rough
covering by way of bed-clothes. Nearly all
were occupied, and the men for tho most part
sound asleep, Uiough it was b.-irely nine
o'clock. Many of the beds held two huddled
together, and hero and there a complicated
bundle with feet sticking out, looked like
three. In one comer a gruff conversation on
the subject of gold scales and weights was
gomj; on in an under tone ; several lay
smoiung-, others gave an occasional roll and
grunt in a drunken, sleep, or muttered in-
coherent imprecations. Scarcely any of theiii
had their clothes off, but I noticed two ex-
ceptions — one of a mnn who had evidently
taken off everything but his boots (which
clung no doubt from the wet), and a btuver-
skin eap lied under his chin ; the other dis-
played a |iair of immense legs from beneath
liis dirty blanket, decked iu a pair of scarlet
stockings with j-ellow clocks, a recent pur-
chase perhaps from some clown at the circus
at an exorbitant price. Blue, shirtp and crim-
son shirts were also visible at ii.tervais, and
ouo shirt seemed to be of some drub colour,
with great Orleans plumbs all over it A
largo gold watch w'lh o gaudv chain was
hung upon a nail near one of the sleepers'
heads, and a massive gold chain, and seals
were dangling over the edge of a quart pot
(the watch being safe and softly lodging in
the beer dregs inside) standing on the vi in-
dow-ledge. There could not have been less
than five-and-forty or fifty people here. Of
the few who were awake no one took tho
least notice of my entrance — a total stranger
being no event where nearly all arc total
strangers to the place or to each other.
The landlord of this delectable retreat now
pushed open the door behind me by a lurch
with his starboard shoulder, and placing him-
self against tho wall, being by this time very
drunk, pointe»l to s stretcher which luckily
had no occupant (having just been sent in),
and holding a tumbler towards me asked
roughly if I'd take a nobler afore turning in.
I thanked him — drank off the brandy — and
returned the tumbler, lie rolled round
against the door and dis.tppeared.
The room was lighted by one bad candle,
stuck ir. the r.eck of a bcer-bcttle, placed on
a flour-cask near the opposite wall. Itz flick-
ering i-eHectJoa ill tliu dark waters beneath
contributed an ailJitional gleam to the com-
fortable scene around. I was standing at this
time oa a sort of raised step, or threshold
mound of loose bricks above the level of the
floor, or rather lagooti, of Uie bed-room, con-
sidering how I .should iilLain my stretcher. I
felt that it would not do to step from stretcher
to stretcher, because if I escaped trending
upon a limb of any of tlio sleepers, I might
.still tip the thing with all upon it clean over;
so I deliheratcly walked through. From the
inequalities of the ground the depths varied
from six to twelve or fourteen inches. I
mounted my rickotty couch — drew off my
boots, at the imminent risk of upsetting the
concern with my struggles in a siioted position
— and enveloped my.-ielf in the blanket, trust-
ing that my wet clothes would produce a
warm steam on the water-cure principle ;
before the reali:wtion of which, being very
tired indeed, I fell asleep.
So much for my bed-room ; but now for the
ladies. Miss Dashwood related it to me this
morning directly we were outside the house,
and wliilc walking along, though ot every
ends all three s[ioke together.
The woman of tho house led tho way
through a dark narrow pasiwge full of water,
I
I
t
J
10
HOUSEHOLD WORDS,
being also below the level of the street, with
a brick hero and there to step upon, for those
who could see them, or knew where they were
planted, till they came to a yard. This
yard was a slough, having been torn up by
the wheels of heavily laden drays and the
hoofs of bullocks. They cro.'sed by means
of several broken planks, half embedded in
the mud, close under the horns of a team of
bullocks standing there till the driver got
sober enough to attend to them, and then
getting behind a muddy wheel, the ladies
fouiul their hostess had paused at the foot of
a ladder. This they all by a very slow
and difficult process ascended ; but one
of the spokes having been broken out,
it W.1S thought that poor Mrs. Pounderby
would never accomplish the task ; nor would
she, but that the drunken bullock driver
seemed to be coming to her assistance, which
induced a succession of struggles that were
at last successful. Of course, being so fat as
she is, it was a dangerous moment for the
ladder.
The hostess now led the way along some
cracking boards till they arrived at the en-
trance of a loft or lumber attia This loft,
however, was only fragmentary, being quite
uniioored, the only apology for which con-
Fisted of some eight or nine long planks laid
across from side to side and resting on ledges
on the top of the walls, just where the
upward slant of the roof commenced. "Oh
gracious heavens alive!" cried Mrs. Poun-
derby ; but her ccstacies were cut short by
the woman of the house who said, "Better
than the streets, I'm thinking ;" with which
curt remark she set down the candle on a
plank, and departed before they could at all
make out where they were.
Surveying their apartment, as well as the
squalid gloom would permit, they saw that
•bout the centre of the planks lay a horribly
dirty old bag made of packing canvass, and
stulVcd with straw and some lumps and rolls
like cast-off clothes and rags made up into
bundles. Upon this a couple of distempered
looking blankets were placed, while the
bi lister was a sack filled with straw and brick-
rubbish, which knocked upon the floor when
moveil.* Between the edges of this bed and
tin; outside planks was a space of about two
feet at most on each side, and beyond that
was an unknown abyss. To the verge of
this. Miss Dashwood cautiously approached,
held fast behind, by the skirts of her dress,
by Mrs. Watson, who was held in turn by
^irs. Pounderby in the same way. Peering
over the brink, Miss Da.shwood thought she
rniilil distinguish through the dark haze a
larire tank or reservoir, below, covered with
Ftrangc shapes sleeping in little boats ; gradu-
ally, however, she was enabled to sec that
it was a room carpeted with water, and
• It m»j be DPoesusry to state (m Melbonrne Bcems
lesllned to hf a place in history) that all thii ^p-
yarautlf eztravigant deecrlption la a rocord of bet
containing a bevy of occupied Etretcherr
enlivened by the gleam of one candle ap-
its reflection. They were just over c-.
beads.
The three poor ladies now sat down upoi>
the bag-bed, and all had a good cry. Tal&otl
of having had every comfort at home, an'
lamented they had ever set foot in A'>ftralir
After this, feeling rather better, Mre, ''^atsc
produced some biscuits and potted bt?* ^~ "as
a little basket she had, and reserving ha.; foi
the morrow, shared the remainder, while Mrs.
Pounderby found she had got a little flask of
spirits in her bag, which was good against the
spasms. They now began to feel their mind?
somewhat relieved. At least there was nc
danger here, except of felling over; bu' <■•*
this they all agreed to be very careful. C
ering themselyes over with the blankets, with
many expressions of disgust at their dirt and
stains, and strong odour of stale tobacco-
smoke and cheese, otu: three fair friends crept
and nestled close to each other, holding very
fast round each others' waists. Mis.s Dash-
wood believes that they all full asleep almost
immediately.
But the fates had not willed that there
should be any sleep for them during their
first night in Melbourne. Squeaks and
scrimmages soon aroused them, quickly fol-
lowed by rattlings, and nishings, and sharp
impatient irate little cries, and then a patter-
ing over the planks. Three or four rats came,
as atant couriers, to reconnoitre, and in no
time there were a dozen describing circles
round them. The ladies screamed, and the
rats made a precipitate retreat ; but presently
returned in full force, apparently in open
column, and again made a circuit of the bed,
till several of the chivalrous took to making
a dash across the bed. At this the ladies
renewed their screams for help so loudly
that it awoke some of the men below, who
answered by brutal shouts and imprecations.
Meantime the numbers of the rat-armj' aug-
mented, and a whole squadron being detached,
made a sharp wheel to the left, and gallopped
clean over the shrinking, writhing, plunging,
and vibrating bodies of our three luckless
ladies. Mrs. Watson feinted away, and Mrs.
Pounderby was in hysterics. The candle had
been knocked out and eaten ; they davxl not
rise in the darkness to attempt an cscajie for
fear of tumbling over into the place below ;
and they dared not again cry for helj) lest
some of the savages below should come up to
them. As for me, I slept through it all, and
never heard anything.
These tortures they endured beneath the
close drawn blanket."*, with buried heads, till
daybreak. All the remaining liiscuits and
potted beef had been carriei'. off from Mrs.
Watson's basket ; and the night-bag of Mrs.
Pounderby had been torn to atoms, as it
had a savoury smell of medical comforts
which had been secreted there during tja
vo)'age.
CROWNS IN LEAD.
11
June 1, 185S. Although nianr extraor-
dinary changes have ocriirred in Melbourne
since the above trtnspirc-il, now six or seven
months back, the ni«rch of improvement
hns gone on hiit slowly. The constant
influx iif pco|ilo rttartls ahnos^l everything,
themselves included. Pnsscngt-rs nre slill
lundi'd at diifk ; luggage baii«;ed n.nd dashed
a)>out in ronrusion ; no pavement, or even
road, on the wharfs ; no Itinips ; only one
crane; no I'omraou civility to new arrivals;
and certainly no respectable or even decent
loiljfins^ for ladies, who want them intmc-
diaiely, and have no resident friends.
CROWNS IN' LEAD.
I
b
BironF railways -were established, the
traveller from Paris to Boulogne, whilst jour-
neying down those vales of dust tliey cnlled a
road, which was contined between great rows
of Irei'S from which all shade was taken by
the lopping of the lower branches, the spire of
St. Denis was a well-known object. Towering
above the plain, it was visible for miles around,
and formed a beacon to the stranger who ap-
proached the capital. That spire \* now no
more, ami the basilica of which King Dagoliert
and St. Elvi laid the lowest stones is lopj)cd of
its most precious relics. What nutcri&s would
be heard from the »n-hilect«, nntiquarics, an"l
lovers of the pieturesr|uo in Knglnnd, if
Westminster Abbey were treated thus 1 JJiit
gnp|)o.se a greater desecration — suppose the
|omb.> were titled ; the bonc-s of our kings
•mi queens removed ; our gcncraliJ, and
■dmiraLs and poets tiken from their resting-
places, and thrown into the Thames ; under
what iiretcnce could the despoilers screen
themselves?
The Abbey of St. Denis has l«-en thus des-
poiled. It is not alnne deprived externally i>f
that which made it.*! fume, but it has been
ritlcd also of all that oge makes sacred. The
Bcpolohrcs and monunn-nU are there; you
mark the spot.i where anxious tourists have
lo|>pcd oir a fingi.T or a nose to carry awiiy
and place in their museums ; but the bones
or a#.hes which these inonumcnls were wont
to cover have been gone for many ycnrs.
Not a King of France, since Dngobert, re-
mains; for U)C grim assaults of the republic
no more spared the long departed than the
living. Wo know that the bones of Cromwell
irere taken at the Restoration and hung upon
a gibbet ; tliat the tombs of the Dukes of
Burgundy wore opened at Dijon for puqioses
of plunder. We know that for curiosity and
in searcli of food for history, the old kryp-
tian sepulchres have been ritied, and tliat
their linen-covered and well-pre*ervefl con-
tents adorn the museums of the world ; and
wc an' told th.it pniins of wheat were found
ii ')ne of them, which, being filant»"d, grew, \
and left a progeny whoae yearly produce |
lecde the English people. Of the tombs of I
1^1 the Oeeaars only one remains undcsccratcd, I
for heaps of gold were thought t:i rest in
them ; but the object of the French repub-
licans when flicy swept the tombs of their
ancient kings, was not goUl. They required
lead.
In seventeen lir'ndrL'd and ninety-three,
when France was hemmed in b^' hungry
enemies who pressed upon h<"r undcfenth.vl
frontiers, the m.nnnftictilnj of warlike raisstlca
did not keep pace i^ith their consumption.
Measures of extraordinary kinds were then
re.sorte<l to lo fill this void. To get .sjdtpetre,
tlie cellars of every house were dug and
sifted till not a particle of salt remained. The
roofs -were stripiHjd of everything that could
be melted into bullets; pot.s and pans and
leaden spouts were melted down. .\11 was
insufficient ; r»ud, as a last resource, it was
determined to exhume the old sarcophagi of
St. Denis, lo puss them throiiph the bullet
mouli), and to throw the venerable relics into
a common ilitcli.
An edict was therefore passwl V>y which
that energetic boily.the Constituent .Vsscnibly,
called upon the municipals of I.a Franciade —
for .«o St. Denis had then been christened,
from patriotic hatred of a saint — to enter the
basilica, and open in succession the li^mbs of
all those tyrants the kings of Fnince, despoil
their coffins of the lead contained in them,
and mi.x the bones and ashes of tlie roynl
houses in n common tomb. Un the evening
of its reception the orders we)"c proeeeiled
with. There w;l'J no faltering. A tn^ip of
soldiers itccomp:vnie<l by (ii;;jri:rs with picks
and shovels, and artncil with torches, and with
frj'ing-pans for burning vinegar and powder,
entered the abbey; and — whilst the lurid
glare lit up the aisles and colom-ts, which the
emokc blackened; amidst the cj-a.sh of piling
nmskrts and the ontlis of mustnchioed vete-
rans — the work began.
In searching for the relics of the Bourbons
the workmen were not at first successful ; and
bj' a strniige fat.'dity it was not a king they
lil'St dug up ; but, on raising the earth from
the lirst tomb, ilifV found the frame and
features of the great Turenne. Thty treated
htm with great respect; that is to .sjiy, they
left him in his cotlin, |)liiced him in the
sacristy, whcn,^ he was shown for months, at
a penny per heail ; and, aOerwards, in the
Garden of Plant-;, wheri: he was shown for
nothing. They then interred him beneath a
splendid monument erected on the spot where
he wa^ disinterred.
The scrutiny jiroceeded, and at last they
found a Bourbon, lie was perfect. The
lineaments were those of Henry of Kavnrrc,
the Cither of that loug line of Louises of
whom (lie last had recently met with so me-
lancholy a death. His beard, moustache, and
hair were perfect ; and, as the soldiers stand-
ing round looked on in awe at the strange
spectacle, one of them drew his sword, and,
casting himself down before the hotly of the
victor of the League, lopped olT one of his
I
12
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[CMaMtolky
inoujttachesi, and placed it upon his own lip,
giTing vent, at tlic same time, to a vehement
burst of nafional cntliuriiasm.
There was no enthusiasm when the pick
anH shovel had laid bare tho rold and vacil-
lating fuaturcs of the thirteenth Louis; svhieh
Were in perfect preservation ttlso ; but it was
not without respect and admiration tliat Louis
the Fourteenth, dccrcpid though he seemed
and de|irivcd of wig nnd every other onia-
meiit which adorned him when called " The
Great," was exposed to viexv. Near him
wefL' discovered Maria Theresa and his son
the dimphin ; on whose frame were visible
the traces of hia violent and untimely
death.
For days and nights the search continued.
Some of Ihc remnants of tho House of .Stuart
were taken from the ground. Among others,
the remains of Henrielta Maria, vrlfe of
Charles the First, and her daughter, Hen-
rietta Stuart Strange that of that family
the body of tho father should be buried
in an unknown grave, and that, ages nflcr,
the remnants of those he loved should be
(lesccralcd, and thrown into a common ditch.
Philip of Orleans?, father of Egalite, and
Regent of France, was next discovered ; and
near to him Louis the Fifteenth, who seemed
still living, BO rosy were the tints on his face
pre.'it-rvcfC Mary of Mddicis and Anne of
Austria, and, with them, all the relatives of
Henry the Fourth, Louis tho Fifltfcnth, and
Louis the Sixteenth, lay close toother near
the same spot.
Older monuments, more difUcuIt of reach,
were tken broken into. Charles the Fifth
of France, who died in thirteen hundred
and eighty, was found beside his wife, Joan
of Bourbon, and his daughter, Isabella. In
his coffin was a silver frosted crown, a hand
of justice, and a silver frosted sceptre four
feet long. In that of Joan there were the
remnants of a crown, a rinj of gold, and the
fragments of a spindle and a bracelet. Her
feet — or the bones of them — were shod with
a pair of painted slippers, known in her
time as iouiifri A la poutainf, on which were
still the marks of gold and silver workman-
ship. Charlea the Sixth and his wife, Fsnbeau
of Bavaria, Charles the Seventh and Mary of
Anjou, wore taken up immediately after; and
the ditch in which the remnants of all the
Bourbons had been thrown was closed for
aver.
A vault was then disclosed in which were
found Marguerite do Valoii;, the gay and
beautiful wife of Ilcnry of Navarre ; and near
her Alcn^on, whose love for her originated a
romantic chapter in history. The remains of
Francis tho Second and Mary Eliiabeth,
daughter of Charles the Ninth, were next dis-
interred. Tho vault of Charles the Eighth,
which was next opened, contained Henrj' the
Second and his wife, Cfttherinc dc Medieis, and
her favourite son Henry the Third, who was
Qmrderud. Louis the Twolilh and Anne of
Binttany were discovered a littlo further
on.
The workmen began at this time to reach
the oldest tombs and vaults in the Abbey.
They discovered Joan of France in a atone
coffin lined with lend in strips, leaden cof^na
not being then invented {one thousand three
hundred and forty-nine). Htigucs, the
father of Capet, was known by an inscription
on a stone sarcophagufi, which contained hia
nshes. Tho pulverized remains of Charles
tho Bold were also found enclosed within a
leaden casket in a stone sarcophagus, and the
relics of Philip Augustus, cotemporary and
competilor of CoBur do Lion, were found in
the same state. Tho bones of Louis the
Eighth were found in perfect preservation in
a bag of leather, which retained its elasticity
although buried in the year one thousand two
hundred and twenty-six.
At dead of night and by the tight of torches
held by weary trooper;;, the scarchcn* stumbled
on the scaled stono vault which contained the
body of Dagobert, who died in six hundred
and thirty-eight. Did the prof-nators
know that he had founded that old church }
It was with difficulty that they pene-
trated inio it, so strongly was it buttressed
and dosed up. They broke a statue at the
entrnnec and found inside a wooden Ik>.x two
feet in length, which contained the bones of
Dagobert and his wife Nantbildc; who died in
six hundred and forty-five, both enveloped and
kept together in a silken bag.
The skeleton of tbie Knight of Brittany —
Bertrand Duguesclin — the terror of tho
Spaniards, was found in the T&olta of the
chapel of the Charles's.
It was not till after long and laborious search
that the vault of Francis the Firet was found.
The leaden coiTin which held his body was of
gigantic proportions, and confinncd tho
historicid flcoounts of his enormous siae. Near
him were his mother Louise of Savoy, hia
wife llaudc of France, his dauphin Chartcs,
and his other chiUlren the Duko of" Orleans
and Charlotte of France. The thigh of
Fi-ancis on being measured was found to be
twenty inches long. Below the windows of
the choir the vault was opened which con-
tained the relics of St. I^ouis and his imme-
diate circle. They were chiefly bones and
dust confined in leaden caskets, and were
thrown into the grave whe.-e lay the rem-
nants of Philip Augustus, Loui.s the Eighth,
and Francis the FirsL
The hust tombs discovered were those of
Philip of Valois, King of France and Duke
of Burgtmdy, and his wife Anne of Burgundy,
and that of John who was taken prisoner by
the Black Prince and brought to England,
where be died in one thousand three hundred
nnd sixty-four. In the tomb of Philip and
his wife were found a sceptre, and a bird of
Copper, a spindle, nnd a ring; and in the tomb
of John a crown, a sceptre, and a band of
justice of silver gilL The searching aAer
ekutaaOltkm.]
KENSINGTON.
h
this was given up. Thus the Abbey of SL
Dents was despoiled of its most ancient
relics.
ECHOES.
Sttll the anirol .itArs arc shining,
Still the rippliny^ waters flow,
But tlio miKol-voico \» silent
Tliiil I licttrd here long igv.
Uork ! tliii QchoM murmur low
Long ago !
Still tliA wood ia dim nnd lonely,
Btill tbo pliuitiinir fonntninst play,
Bat tUe piut niul nil its beniity,
Wliitber bus it fled awiiy i
IlArkl tha luouruful oolioea say
Flod BWay I
Btill tVio bird of niKht eomplaineth
(Now, iiiilceil, her »oDg is puin),
Vicious of my huppy hours
mul call 11
Do I cs>ll Hjul call 111 vain (
Hark ! tho ccboes cry a^jain
All iu vain I
O«aso, oh echoes, monrDfuI echoes I
Onoe I loved yonr voices well ;
Now my heart i» uiclf and weary,
Days of old, a long farewell I
Uark ! llio echoes sod auJ drcAry
Cry Farewell, farewell I
KENSINGTON.
Fkox Goi^ House to the town of Ken-
sington we pass houses botli old and new, some
in rows, and some by themselves encloscil in
gardens. They are all more or less good ;
and the turnings out of them lead into a
considerable district which has lately been
^ converted from nursery and garden ground
into more streets, and is called Kensington
New Town. It is all very clean and neat,
and astonishes visitors, who, a few years ago,
beheld scarcely a house on the spot. A plea-
sant hedge lane, paved in the middle, and
looking tow.inls the wooded grounds of Glou-
cester Lodpe, where Canning lived, leads out
of it into Old Brompton. One street, which
has no thoroughfare, is quite of a stately
character though defaced at the comer with
one of those unmeaning rounded towers,
■whose tops look like spicc-boxes, or trifles
from Margate. The smaller streets also par-
take of those improvements, both external
and internal, which have succeeded to the
unambitious barrack-like streets of a former
generation ; nor, in acquiring solidity, have
they, for the most part, been rendered heavy
and dumpy — the too couiuion fuiilt of new
buildings in the suburbs. It is ridiculous to
sec lumpish stone balconies constructed for
the cxhihit>iTi of a Rnv fiowor-pots ; and
doors and flights of steps big enough for
houses of three stories, put to " cottages" of
one. Sometimes, in tlicsc dwarf suburban
grandiosities the stopfl look as weighty as
half the building : sometimes the door a1ono
reaches from the ground to the storey abova
it, so that *' cottages" look as if they were
inhabited by giants, and the doorways as if
they had been maxiiniKcd, on purpose to
enable them to go In.
This Kensington New Town lies chiefly
between the Gloucester and Victoria roads.
Returning out of the latter into the high
road, we pass the remainder of the buildings
above noticed, and just before entering
Kensington itself, halt at an old mansion
remarkable for its shallowness compared
with its width, and attracting the attention
by the fresh look of its red and pointeti
brick-work. It is called Kensington House,
and surpasses Gore House in the varieties of
its history ; for it has been, first, the habita-
tion of a king's mistress ; then a school kept
by an honest pedant whom Johnson visited ;
then a French emigrant school which bad
noblemen among its teachers, and in which
the late Mr. Shicl was brought up; then
S Roman Catholic boarding-hmise with
Mrs, Inchbald for an inmate ; and now it is
an "asylum" — a term into which that con-
sideration for the feelings which so honourably
marks the progress of the present day has
converted the plain-spoken " mad-house" of
our ancestors.
The king's mistress was the once famous
Duchess of Portsmouth, a Frenchwoman —
Louise de Qucrounille — who first came to
England in the train of Henrietta, Duchess
of Orleans, the sister of Charles the Second.
She returned and remained for the exjjrcss
purpose (it h said) of completing the im-
pression she had made on him, and assisting
the designs of Louis the Fourteenth and tha
Jesuits in making him a papist, and reducing
him to the treasonable condition of a
pensioner on the Fjench court Traitor and
pensioner, at all events, he became, and the
French young lady became an English
Duchess ; but whether she was a party to the
plot, or simply its unconscious instrument,
she has hardly had justice done her, we think,
by the historians. She appears to have been
a somewhat silly person (Evelyn says she had
a " baby face") ; she was bred in France at
a time when it was a kind of snrred fashion
to admire the mistresses of Louis tha
Fourteenth, and think them privileged con-
cubines ; she had probably learnt in the
convent where she was brought up that
lawless things might becom*; lawful to serve
religious ends; and she was visited during
her elevation by her own p.irents — straight-
forward, unaffected people, according to
Evelyn ; the father a "good fellow," who
BL'om.-^ at once to have rejoiced in her position
and yet to have sought no advantages from
it The Duchess, to bo sure, ultimately got as
much for herself as she could out of the
king. She was as lavish as he was ; became
poor, a gambler, and a gourmande ; and as
her occupation of the house at Kcnsingtoa
il
i
4
.d
14
HOUSEHOLD WORDS,
[Cooilatu^ hf
appears to have been subsequent to the reign
of Charles, it probably took place on one
of her visits to England during the reigns
of William the Third and George the First,
on which latter occasion she is supposed
to have endeavoured to get a pension
from the English Government — on what
ground it would be curious to know. But
the " baby-face" probably thought it all right
We take her to have been a thoroughly
conventional, common-place person, with no
notions of propriety but such as were received
at court ; and quite satisfied with everything,
here and hereafter, as long as she had plenty
to eat, drink, and play at cards with, and a con-
fessor to make all smooth in case of collateral
peccadilloes. The jumble of things religious
and profane was carried to such a height in
those days, that a picture representing the
duchess and her son (the infant Duke of Rich-
mond) in the characters of Virgin and Child
was painted for a convent in France, and
actually used as an altar-piece. They thought
her an instrument in the hands of God for the
restoration of Popery.
Adieu to the "baby-face" looking out of
the windows at Kensington House in hope of
some money from King George, and hail to
that of the good old pedagogue, James
Elphinatone, reformer of spelling, translator
of Martial, and friend of Doctor Johnson.
He is peering up the road, to see if his great
friend is looming in the distance ; for dinner
is ready; and he is afraid that the veal
stuffed with plums (a favourite dish of the
Doctor's) will be spoilt.
Mr. El^instone prospered in his school,
but failed in his reformation of spelling, which
was on the phonetic principle (one of his
books on the subject was entitled Propriety's
Pocket Dictionary ;) and ho made such a
translation of Martiaj, that his friend Strahan
the printer — But the circumstances must be
told out of Boswell : —
" Garrick. Of all the translations that ever were
attempted, I think EIphinstonc'B Martial the most
extni'irdinary. IIo consulteJ mo upon it, who am a
little of an epiBrammatiiit myself, you know. I lolJ
him freely, ' Yon don't seem to have that turn.' I
askcil liim if he was serious ; and, flndine he was,
I n-lvised him njrninst publishinf;. Why, his trang-
latioii is more difficult to aadcrstand than the
oripiiul. I thought him a man of some talents;
but he seems crazy in this. Johssom. Sir, yon have
done what 1 had' not oourasre to do. But he did
not nsk my advice, and I did not force it upon him
CO make him an<rry with mo. Garrick. Bat as a
friend, sir — Jou.xsoV. Why, such a friend as I am
with him — no. Garrick. *Bnt, if_)'On see a friend
goiii^ to tumble over a precipice} Joansox.
That U an extrnvatrunt ca«o, sir. Yon are sure a
friend will thank you for liinderine him f^om tnm-
bliiiL' over o precipice; but, in the other case, I
Mioiild hurt hU vanity, and do him no i^ood. He
w.mM not take tny advice. Ills brother-in-law,
Stralinn, sent him a subscription of flftv pounds,
and sail he would send him fifty more if' he would
not publish. Garrick. What, eh ! is Strahan a
good j idge of an epi(jTam I Is he not rather an
obtubu man, oh I Johksox. Why, air, he may
not be a judge of an epigram ; but you see be
is a judge of what is not an epigram."
That the readers of Household Words may
judge for themselves, especially as the book ig
very rare, and nobody who speaks of Elphia*
stone quotes it, we add a specimen or twow
We confess they are not favourable sped*
mens ; but they are not unjust :
" TO THE gUBSORIBEBS.
" If Martial meekly woo'd Subscription's charms,
Subscription |[;racious met a Martial's arms ;
Contufrious taste illum'd th' imperial smile.
And, Julius greater, Martial, won onr ile.'*
" ON APOLLODOR09 : TO BEOULin.
" Five for Ten, and for Lusty ho jrrcctod you C«3^
As for Free he saluted you Bond.
Now lie Ten, Free, and Lusty articulates cleslfc
Oh ! what pains can ! He wrote, and ho conn'd."
Not a word of explanation, though the hooli
is full of the longest and most superfluous
comments. It is a quarto of six hundred
pages, price a guinea in boards ; and among
its hundreds of subscribers are the lead-
ing nobility and men of letters ; so pros-
perous had some real learning and a good
characto» rendered the worthy school-
master.
Elphinstone had won Johnson's heart by
taking charge of a Scotch edition of the
Rambler. He also translated the Latin
mottoes at the head of the papers ; and did it
in a manner that gave little or uo token of tho
coming Martial Johnson, Jortin (of whom
more hereafter), and we believe Franklin
visited him at his house.
" I am going this evening," says Johnson,
"to put young Otway to school with Mr.
Elphinstone." — Letter to Mrs. Thrall. Otway
is an interesting name. One would like to
know whether ho was of the poet's race.
It is pleasant also to fancy the Doctor, then
in his sixty -fourth year, walking hand in hand
down the road with the little boy.
"On Monday, April nineteenth, seventeen
hundred and seventy-three, he called on me
(says Boswell) with Mrs*. Williams, in Mr.
Strahan's coach, and carried me out to dine
with Mr. Elphinstone, at his Academy at
Kensington. Mr. Elphinstone talked of a new
book that was much admired, and asked Dr.
Johnson if he had read it Johnson : ' I
have looked into it' 'What,' said Elphin-
stone, ' have you not read it through V John-
son, offended at being thus pressed, and so
obliged to own his cursory mode of reading,
answered hastily, ' No, Sir ; do you read booki
through?'"
It is said in Faulkner's History of Ken-
sington, that Elphinstone was "ludicrously
cnaracterised in Smollett's Roderick Random,
which in consequence became a forbidden
book in his school." But none of the brutal
schoolmasters of Smollett resemble the gentle
pedagogue of Kensington. The book might
Ii
-1
fori; J
Te»>.
thd 1
t«ii
Um
tiOli
to
tht;:
the.
hs^e bocD furbiddon in coniiidtration for the
common cliaraclur of Che prufessioa ; to isay
nothing of utLcT reasons.
But \rc must not stop lunger with Mr.
ElpliiiL^lotie. or the school kept in this sumt'
houso by the Jesuits, a dcJiglitful account hu
been Idl by Mr. .Sliicl in thu muinoir jirc-
flxcd to iJii: volume of iiis Speeches. C'hiuU'S
tliu Teotb, of Knuicc, 'mis one of " tlic boys."
Poor L.'li4rifS thy Tenlk! himscll" one of
the Iciujt of cliildrcn in the greatest of bchools
— adversity; which hu lell only to be scut
back to it and die.
In the year eighteen hundred and nineteen
Ki-Qsiiigtoti liousu was a CathoUc boarding
estttblii..bmi.'nt, kept by a Mr. and Mrs.
SaitvrcUL
- ' -ys Borwdcn, in hib lleiiioirt of
clibisliuj) of Jorusiili-rn jM;r-
• liirii!;; the criHv |milol' lior
Mtuil wljcii
;j- wiia cx-
. „', bowBVur,
diulitj' iiiiii lliu I'uriuu-
i.iictti.-., however, »ccm
u!i 1 .Mnt. Ikloe, uud Mr.
II, worn old IricuUs, wliu uii
i;u utUmjked iWr jiliiuaurc : —
. .Mr. BU.i Mri. i.'o.twii^, iipou
.■, wort! ut Ki.;u.iiij;t<ju liuiuu
. v^. .>i;r, beluru tiiuj ouillcJ upon
house in tUo l^i^ovrore road."
Here Mrs. Inchbald spent the last two
years of Ult Ufe; and here, on the tirit
o£.Augurit, i;i;^hteen humkcd and twenty-one,
siic d.v'J, -vve fear — how shall wo say it of so
tscellent a woman, and in the .•jix.ly-eiglilh
year of her age < — of light lacing ' But she
had bck'U very hundsonie; was btill haiulsoiue;
was growing tat ; and had uuver liked to part
witli her beauty.
We have dwelt a littlu on this point ns a
warning — if u'l^ht-liicers can take warning.
\Ve olinust fear they would sooner quote
ilrs. Inchbald ns iiu e.xcufjo, than an adtao-
nitioa. liut at tdl events, beauties of mxty-
cight niay perhaps consent to bo a littlo
Bt&rtlcd.
If this WAS a weakness in Mrs. Inchbald,
let tighl-lttccrs resemble her in olberreifpecls,
and if iheir rickety children can forgive theui
the rest of tl»e world may heartily do so.
Mrs. Inchbald never had any children to
need their forgiveness, iiho was a woman of
rare endowments — an actress, a dramatist,
a, novelist — and possessed of virtue so rare,
that slio would practise painful self-denials in
order to alford deeds of charity, iler acting
was perhaps of tho sensible, rather than
the arlisticul sort ; and though some of her
plays and llirccs have still their seitsous of
reappearance on the stage, she was too much
giveu, as a dramatist, to tbcatricul and .senti^
meotal effects — too melo-draniatic ; but her
novels arc admirable, particularly the Simplt)
Story, which hiis all the element..* of duration
— invention, passion, and thorough truth to
aatore in word and deed. To bahiaco thcae
advnntagea, which she possessed over other
people, she must needs have some fault^•, and
we take them (besides the tight-lacin;:) to
hnve been tiiosc of temper and stubboruness.
Charles Lamb speaks of her somewhere aa
tlic "beautiful vixen." The word must
surely have been too strong for such a
woman, who is s.'»i<I to have posscs^scd both
the respect and alfection of all who knew her.
If our memory does not deceive u.<, he applies
it to her upon an occasion when she might
well liavo been angry, and when she
thought herself bound to resort to measures
of self-defence, physical as well as monil. A
distinguished actor, who was enamoured of
her — and who seems to have been a warmer
lover otf the stage than he was ujjon it —
persisted one day in forcing upon her a sm»1u-
tation, which appeared so alarming, that she
seixed hini by ttie pigtail and tugged it with
a vigour so etlicacious as forced hitr to desist
in trepidation. She related the circumstanco
to a friend ; adding, with a touch of her
comic humour, which mu.st have been height-
ened by the difficulty of getting out the words
(for she stammered sometimes) — " How lucky
ihat he did not w-w-wear a w-w-w-wig. '
— .MiU Inchbald ha<l lived in several other
houses in Kensington, which shall be noticed
as we pass them ; for the abodes of tho
authoress of lliu Simple Story make clo-ssic
ground.
We have now come to Kensington High
Street, and shall take our way on the lofl-
Iwnd side of it, continuing to do so through
the whole town, and noticing the streets
and- squares tli.Tt turn out of it n.s we pro-
ceed. NVe shall then turn at the end of the
town, and come back by Holiantl House,
Campden House, and Kensington Palace and
Gardens.
On our right hand, over the wny, is the
Palace (iato with its sentinels, and op]iosito
this gate, where wo are halting, is a sturdy
good-sized house, a sort of undergrown
mansion, singularly so for its style of building,
and looking as if it must have Vjeen the work
of Vnnbrugh ; one of whose edifices will be
noticed further on. It is just in his " No-
nonsense" style; what hi.s opponents called
"heavy," but very sensible nnd to the purpose ;
built fur duration. It is only one storey high,
and looks as if it had been made for some
rich old bachelor who chose to live alone, but
liked to have everything about him strong
ar.d safe.
Such was probably the casft ; for it is called
Colby House after a baronet of that name,
who lived in tho time of George the First,
nnd who appears to luive been a man of
humble origin, and a miser. A spectator
might imagine tliat the andiitcct was
stopped when about to commence a third
storey, in order to save thu expense. Dr.
King, the Jacobite divine, who know Colby,
nnd who thinks he was a commissioner in tho
Victualling Oificv, says (la U« Lvt&twc^ wv^
<
t
k
HOUSEHOLD "WORDa
(0Mt4MM 19
Political AnccJotes of his own Times) that
the baranct killed himself by rising in the
niiddle of the night when he was in a profuse
perspiration (the consequence of a medicine
Uikt-n to that end), and going downstairs for
the key of (lie colliir, which he hnd inadver-
tently left on a tabic. " lie was apprehensive
tliat his scr«*aiitii might seize the key, and rob
him of a bottle of his port-wine."
" This man (adds the doctor) died intestate,
sjtd Icfl more than two hundred thousand
poundH in the funds, which were shared
among five or six day-labourers, who were his
nearest relations."
"Who aem pale Mammon pino amidtt hii> store,
8«o8 but » wwkvard steward for the poor."
The High Street of Kensington, though
.he place is so near London, anil contains so
aiRny new buildings, has a considerable
resemblance to that of 3. country town. This
is owing to the moderate size of the houses,
to their general style of building (which is
tliat of a century or two aRo), and to the
curious, though not obvious fact, that not ono
of the fronts of them is exactly like another.
It is also neat and clean ; its abutment on n
putace associates it with something of an air
of refinement ; and the first object that
presents itself to the attention, next after the
senlineh at the Palacc-gatc, is a white and
pretty lodge at the entrance of the new road
leading to Bayswater. The lodge, however,
b somewhat loo narrow. The road is called
Kensington Palace G.'irdens, and is gradually
filling with manHionss, sonic of which arc in
good tsistu and others in bad, and none of
tiiicse have gardens to speak of; so that the
spectator does not well see why anybody
Bhould live there, who can afford to live in
houses so large.
Plosant, however, aa the aspect of High
Street is on first entering it, the eye has
Bcarcely caught Eight of the lodge just men-
tioned when it encounters a " sore," in the
shape of some poor Irish people hanging
about at the conitr of the first turning on the
left hand. They look like people from the
old brokeiY-up cslabli.shiuent of Saint GiWs,
•nd probably are so ; a considerable influx
from the " Rookery" in that quarter having
augmented the " Itookery" in this ; for .so it
has equally been called. Tins Itookery has
long been a nuisance in Kensington. In the
morning you .seldom see more of it than this
indication at the entrance ; but in the evening
the inmates mingle with the rest of the
inhabilants out of doors, and the naked feet
of the children, and the ragged and dissolute
looks of men and women, present a pain-
fiil contrast to the general decency. We
understand, however, that some of these poor
people are very respectable of their kind, and
that the improvements which are taking
place in other portions of the kingdom, in
ooQSoqucnce of the attention so nobly p^d of
late years to the destitute and uneducated,
have not been without effect in this quarter.
The men for the most part are, or profess to
be, labouring bricklayers, and the women,
market-garden women. They are calcu-
lated, at a rough guess, to amount to a
thousand ; all crammed, perhaps, into a placfl
which ought not to contain above a hundred.
The reader, from late and painful statemcnta
on these subjects, knows how they must
dwell. The place is not much in sighL
You give a glance and a guess at it, as you
look down the turning, and so pass on.
There was a talk, not long since, of bringing
the new rood, just mentioned, from over the
way, and continuing it through the spot, so
as to sweep it clean of the infection, as in the
case of Now Ilolbom and St. Giles's ; and
in all probability the im])rovenient will take
place, for ono advance brings another, and
Kensington has become of late so much
hnndsoincr as well as larger, that it will
hardly leave this blemish on its beauty. But
leases must expire; and lettings and Bub-
lettinga for poor people die hard. It is not
the fault of the Archdeacon, nou-resiilent in
Kensington {wo mention it to his honour),
that these lettings and sub-lettings arc still
alive.
Most of this unhappy multitude are
Roman Cntholirs. Their priests tell us of a
fine house at Lorclto, in Italy, which the
Virgin >Inry lived in at N.izareth, jiiul which
angels brought from that place into the
dominions of the Pope. They al.'so tell us
that miracles never cease, at Icn.st not in
Roman Catholic lands ; and that nobody
feels for the poor as they do. What a pity
that (hey could not join these feelings, these
hands, and these miracks, and pray a set of
new houses into England ibr the poor brick-
layers.
Continuing our way from this inau.spicious
corner, we come to the turning at Young
Street, which leads into Kensington Srjuarc,
formerly as important n place in this .suburb
as Grosvenor Square was in the Melropolis.
Kensington Square occupies an area of
some hundred and fifty feet, and was com-
menced in the reign of James the Second, and
finished towards the close of that of William.
It is now a place of obsolete-looking, though
respectable, houses, such as seem made to
become boarding-schools, which some of them
are ; and you cannot help thinking it has
a desolate air, though all the houses
arc inhabited. In the reigns of William, of
Anne, and the first two Georges, Kensington
Sqvi.are was the most fashionable spot in the
suburbs; it was fll.'id with freqiientiTs of the
court; and these are the identical houses
which they inhabited. Faulkner s.iys, that
" at one time upwanLs of forty carriages were
kept in and about (he ncighbnurtiood ;** and
that " in the time of George the .Second, tlie
demand for lodgings was so great that an
ambassador, a bishop, and a physician, won
NUMBER FORTY-TWO.
1.
■Ui-TJUlj
Known to occupy Bpartmcnts in the aanio
house."
Tliu earliest distinguished mime of an
inliabitaut of this spot in tlie parish-books in
that of the Dache«3 of Maaarin, in the year
one thousand six hundred and ninctj-tvro.
We know not which houso she Uvec] in ; but
the render must iranjiinne her, nftor the good
French fashion, tilking; hvr uvom'ng walk in
Ihusquaiv, the envy ofgiii'-.i'ii. iin r petticoaU,
kccompaniod by a net o\ iid French
ts, Villiers, Godolj • 'ot>ys, &i'.,
ng whom is her daily visitor and constiint
' ng old friend, St Evremoml, with his
white locks, little scull-cap, and tlic great wen
on his Ibreiiead. lie idolises her to the very
tips of hiT fingers, though she borrowed his
money, which he could ill alford, and gambled
it away besides, which he could rfot but pray
her not to do. He also begged her to resist
the approaches of UHqavbaugli.
The Duchess waa then six-and-forty, an
Italian, with black hair^ and, according to his
description of Iier, still a perfect beauty.
Fielding thought her so when she v/aa
younger, for he likens her portrait to Sophia
Western.
Uortcnsi^ Mancini was niece of Cardinal
Mazarin, at whose death (to use her own
word-s, in the Memoirs which she dictated to
Saint Kcal) she became " the richest heiress,
and the nnhappiest woman in Chri.stendom ;'
that is to say, she found she had got a Jealous,
mean bigot for her husband, wlio grudged
her a hanJ-some participation of the money
he obtained witli her; and, as this was
touching her on the tenderest point, slic run
away from him in pure desperation, to see
how she could enjoy herself cLjewherc, and
what funds to pay for it she would get out of
him, by disclosing their iiuarrols to the world.
The Duke (his name was Meilleraye, but ho
took the name of Mazarin when he married
her) wa.s inexorable, and not to be scandiilised
cut of his meanness; so his wife, after divers
wanderings which got her 8C4indalii>e<l in her
t:;rn, came into England on pretence of visiting
hsr cou.sin Mury of E.ste. Duchess of York,
but in reality to get a pension from Charles
the SeconiL This she did, to the amount of
four thousand "a year ; evcrv" pennv of which
was probably grudged her by the lavish king
himself, who could not afford it, and who is
said to have been disguitted by her falling in
love with another man the moment she got
it. Charles, when in exile, bad sued for
Ilortensia's nand in vain from her unclu the
Cardinal, who thought the royal pro.spccts
hopeluKS, and who was in fear of the Protector,
Madame de Mazarin, however, continued to
Bouriidi among the ladies at Whitehall during
Charles's reign ; she had half her pension
confirmed to her by King William; did
nothing from first to last but keep company
and gamble it away ; and six years after her
residence at Kingston, died so poor, at a
null hotue in Chelsea (the last, aa you go
from London, in Paradise Row), that her
body was detained by her creditors till her
husband redeemed it The husband em-
balmed it; and surviving her many years, is
said (which is hru-dl}' credible) to have
carried it about with him all that time, wher-
ever ho went, a.s if determined on ha%-ing the
woman with him, dead, who would not
" abide " him while she was living.
Madame de Mazarin was praised by Saint
Evrcmontl for every kind of good quality
except prudence in money matters. When
she was a girl, she tells us that she and her
sisters one day threw upwarvls of three hun-
dred louis out of window, for the pleasure o.*
seeing a parcel of footmen scramble and fight
for tlicra. They must luive been louis d'ora,
or so many pound wterling; a sum worth
two or three times the amount at present
She says that the amusement was thought to
have hastened her uncle's death. She was
afterwards accused, while in a convent, where
her husband succeeded in " stowing " her for
a time, of putting ink into the hoi}* water box
(to blacken the nuns' faccn), and of frightening
them out of their sleep at night, by running
through the dormitory with a parcel of little
dogs, yelping and howling. She saya that
these stories were cither inventions or exagge-
rations; but wo arc strongly disposed to
believe them.
NUMBER FORTY-TWO.
. Tire true original Number Forty-two — of
which a copy may be seen in any of the
tliousand.s of towns and cities between Nepau
and Ceylon— is situated in the very heart of
the black town of Colombo, amidst Uio streets
in which dwell natives, half-castes, and
Eurasians, or country-born descendants of
Europeans. It is to be found in the chief
thoroughfare of the town, if such a term as
thoroughfare can properly bo applied to the
narrow choked-up pa.'isage boiling over with
hot coolie.H, enraged bnllock-drivcrs, furious
horsckccpcrs, dusty hackeries, and ricketty
palanquins.
This state of tropical conglomeration will
be more readily understood when I mention
that the carriago-way or street is the only
passage available for ])edestrians and eques-
trians, for bipeds and quadrupeds. The
Dutch, when raa.slers of the place, had
provided every hou.so with broad lux-
uriant verandahs, covered in and nicely
paved; so that the dwellers ia the town
might not only sit out under shade in the
open air of an evcnin^j; but during the furious
heat of the day, could walk from one end ot
the street to the other under these broad
and pleasant covered ways;. Now, however,
these verandahs have been appropriated
and railed off, as open receptacles of all
sorts of merchandise. Where in former
jolly days radiant Dutchmen sat and smoked
their pipes, and quailed Schiedam, are now
I
I
nOUSBH3LD WORDS.
[OailieMk-
pilcd up tOo mosses of iron and crntcs of
carthcnwore. AVIicre buxom, merry-cyt'd
la&ocs once flirted with incipient burp)-
masters, aro shiploads of rice, and car-
goes of curry BtulFs. Thu pcrftmie of the
rose and the oleander nre supplanted by the
caustic fmpinco of garlic and salt-fish.
Dotted along this fnigrnnt street, among
rice stores, iron depots, ;ind dried lish ware-
houses, are the shops of the Moonncn trader!^
the only attractions for Europeans in this
quarter. The supply of all deacriptions of
u.<!cful or fancy articles of domestic use
to the English is in the hand^ of tlits^c
people, who may bo gaiil, indeed, to be the
Jews of India. Ili-re and there a BurRher
or Kura.sian may lie seen vending pickltd
pork, perfumery, and parasols, but never one
of the indigenous natives of the country.
They cannot make up their roving, unsettled
minds to shopkeeping; although some of their
women have now and then the industry to
Siscome manufacturers and vondora of
" hoppers," "jaggery," and other Indian
village luxuries.
Your regular Moormen shopkeepers, or
bazoar-mcii, possess such terrifically unpro-
nouni't'ablo names that, by common consent,
tiieir English customers "designate them by
the numbers of their shops. In this way a
little, thin-faced, shrivelled-up Moorman, a
small portion of who.'se name cflnsists of
Mcera Lcbbe Hema Lebbe Tamby A.hamadoc
Lebbe Marcair, is cut down to Number
Forty-eight ; which is the title he is usually.
known by.
The most flourishing of these gentry is
certainly Number Forty-two ; a portly,
oily-skinned, well-conducted Moorman, with
a remarkably well-shaven head, snruiounted
on its very apex by a ridiculously little white
linen cap, like an expanded miiflin, ilis
bazaar is admitted on all hands, especially
amongst the fair sex, to be " tirst chop."
Yet a stranger would imngino that the
fiscal had pos.ses,sion of the place and was on
the point of selling off by auction the entire
contenU : so confused and motley an ap-
pearance do tliey wear.
The doorway, narrow and low, is jealously
gnarded by a pile of grindstones, sunnuunted
by a brace of soup-tureens on the one side,
and by tools and weapons of otTence on the
other; so that the chances are that, in try-irg
to cs<-!ipe the Newcastle and SLnflbrdshirc
Oharybtlis you get caught upon the sharp
jwinLs of the Sheffield Scylln. Once past
these dangers, however, you forget •all
your anxiety and nervousness in the bland
Bunny countenance of Number Forty-two.
He is truly delighted to sec you, he is so
anxious to place the whole contents of his
store at your complete disposal that one
might fancy his solo object in life was to
minister to the pleasure of the English
community.
Number Forty-two directs your atten-
tion, in tho most winning manner, to a
choice and very dusky collection of hanging-
lamps of the most grotesque ffushicn. His
fowling-pieces are poiiitotl out to you as
perfect marvels. If you require any blacking-
brushes, or padlocks, or Wind.sor soap, or
smoking cap.s, or tea-kdtdcs, he possesses
them in every possible variety, just out by
the very latest ship.
Our bazaar. is by no means aristocratic
On the contmry, it is most decidedly repub-
lican in aU its tendencies. It admits of no
distinction of ranks. The higher born wares
are placed on an equal f<>uting with the most
lowly merchandise, the most plebeian goods.
Earthenware joaUes cut-glass; ironmongery —
and some of it rare and ruily too — Kjlbows the
richest porcelain ; vulgar tin-ware hob-nobs
with silks and satins. Tart-fruiLs and pickles
revel in the arms of forty yiirds of the best
crimson velvet. Pickled salmon in tins are
enslirincd amongst Coventry ribbons.
I don't happen to require any of his per-
fumery or preserves, nor am 1 anxious about
muslins or plated-candlesticks ; I simply war.t
to select a few very plain winc-glasse.s, and 1
know there are none better than at Number
Forty-two. Piles after piles of the fragile
glass-ware are raked out from under a mass
of agricultural implements, and it is really
marvelloiR to see how haritilcssly the brittle
tilings are towslcd and tumbled about amongst
pondcrou.s wares nnd massive goods. Jlow
peacefidly the lions and the lambs of manu-
facturo.ii repose together within the dusty
dark walla of Forty -two.
My portly friend with the muffin-cap is
never disconcerted by any demand, however
out of the common way. From ships' anchors
and chain-cables down to mtmiikin-pins, iio
has n supply of every possible variety of wares.
I have often asked for things that I never
dreamt of requiring, just to try the wonderful
resources of Numl>cr Forty-two, and sure
enough he would produce the articles one by
one. I thought I had caught liiin oiue when
I requested to look at a lew warrtiing-p.ina,
and pictured to myself how hugely chap-
fallen he would appear, to be obliged to con-
fess that he had no such things in his store
But not a bit of it. lie sidle aw.ny very
placidly into some dismal dark hole of a place,
amongst a whole cavern of bottles and jara,
and just as 1 pictured him emerging into broad
daylight, dead-beaten, he came upon mo
radiant nnd cheerful a.s ever, benring a gigan-
tic and genuine " warn)ing-]>,nn," apologising
to nu', as he removed the CDaiing ufdust from
it, for having but that one to olfer — it was tho
lust of bis stock. T li:id it sent home as a
real curio.sity, and bung it uji in my library
amongst other rare articles of vtrtu.
There was one pecuiiarity about my im)Q!n-
capped (Hend which must not be omitted
He never njade any ab.itemetit in tho price
demanded for his articles, be they of the latest
im[iortation, or the remains of .in invoice
Ctwiw Ikrkm^t
NUMBER FORTY-TWO.
If
'
stMtdiag over since he first started in busi-
ness. A shop-keeper in nearly any other
country in the world would, at the end of a
ccrtnin number of years, clear out his old
slock, and dispose of it as he best could to
make room for new wares. But not so
Number Forty-two; nor indeed any other
nuuiber in tliat bazaar. There lay the old-
fashioned cotton-prints, and silk waistcoat
piecc-s, «nd queer-looking ribbons of no colour
Mt «ll. Years hiave rolled past aince they
Qrst entered their present abode. The mer-
chant who imported them died of a liver
attack a do2en years fiinco, Thej' would not
Hell in eighteen hundred and twenty, and
tlicitfore are not Tery likely to move off in
sightcen hundred and Hfty; but the s-ime price
is atSscd to thcni now as then, and the only
ch-ntice for their di.sposal apj)ears to be by the
direct intcrpobition of a tire or an earthrpiiike.
Number Forty-two had doubtless heard thi»t
wines are improved by age, anil he may
possibly imagine that some- mellowing and
enriching proceia goes on in a lapse of years
with regard to silks and cottons.
Tliia class of Indian shop-keepers have
moreover a very confused and my.-^titied con-
ception of the real value of some goods. They
can tell you to a tritlu the worth of a dinner-
Bot, or of a dozen Dutch hoes, but in milli-
nery and other fanej* articleis they are oftt-n
fearfully mistaken. A Sfoorman buys what
ia tcrme<l, in technical lang\iiigc, a " Chow-
chow'' invoice — in other word.s, a mi.xed
assortment of hardware and solt-ware, of eat-
ables and wearablei. ile is told the lot is
Talucd at a hundred pourub sterling ; he
offers eighty, and tidces them at ninety. Ho
refers to the invoice on opL-ning out the
goods, tuid gets on very well in pricing them
until he comes to such things as ribbons,
gloves, lace, ±c. ; which are the dear and
which the cheap ho cannot possibly tell, and
be, therefore, tickets them at so much the
yard or the pair all round, as the case may
W In this way I often pick up a glorious
bargain at Forty-two, buying kiif-gloves for
cightccn-pcnce, for which in London 1 should
have to pay at least four shillings; and a
tritlo of real Brus-sels lace for my wife at the
price of the very commonest Nottingham
article.
The fortunes of Forty-two were once
placed in the most imminent jeopardy from
m circumstance which happened in his shop
while I was there, and which became, at the
lime, the food of all the hungry gossip-mon-
gers of the place. My friend had a Moorish
assistant remarkably active, but dissiptilcd
and impertinent, lie was ugly beyond mea-
sure, and when ho grinned, which he fre-
quently wuuld do in spite of strict injunctions
to the contrary, he distended a cavern of a
mouth that w.is perfectly repulsive. This
creature had become one day unusually ex-
cited, and it appears in the fervour of his
jollity bad l^d a wagor with a young neigh-
bour of kindred habiU, that he would kisfl
the first female customer who should set fi-wt
within his master's shop on that morning, be
she fair or dark. I can imagmo the horror
with which poor Forty-two beheld his grin-
ning deputy fulHl his engagement by saluting
the fair cheek of an Knglish Isdv, and that
ladj- — as chance would have it — the wife of
one of the highest civil functionaries of the
place. The nlfiiir was hushed up as much
as it could be, but in the end it oozed out;
and people, so far from deserting Number
Forty-two, actually flocked to it to hear the
particulars of the affair. The offender was
dismissed ; but not until he had imparted to
that particular shop a celebrity it had never
previously enjoyed.
There are other numbers besides Forty-
two which enjoy a cousiderahlo reputation,
all things considered, but they certainly lack
the fashionable repute of the aforesa-d. For
instance, there is Number Fortj-seven, a
remarkably well-conducted man, very steady,
very civil, and exceedingly punctual in set-
tling his accounts with the merchants, who
esteem him accordingly. This worthy iloor-
man transacts business much on the samo
principle as his neighbours, but unlike
Forty-two and one or two other active
numbers, he is given to indulge in certiuii
»if»ta» during the heat of the dny, which no
influx of customers can debar him frotti en-
joying. As the hour of high noon appronches,
he spreads his variegated mat upon the little,
dirty, ricketty, queer-looking couch, under the
banana tree in the back court-yard by the
side of the well, and tlivrc, under the plea-
sant banana shaile, he dor.cs off, fanned by
such truant brcezea .ts have the courage to
venture within such a cooped-up, shut-in pit
of a yard, dreaming of customers, accounts,
and promissory-notis. During this .slumber,
it is in vain for any onu .to attempt to coax
a yard of muslin, or a fish-kettle, out of
the incxornblo Forty-s^eVLtu The .somnife-
rous spell has desccndwl upon liis dwarfy
deputy; who, rather than wako his master,
would' forfeit his chance of Paradise; and
he, no less drow.^v himself, ojvens one eye
and his mouth only, to assure you that the
article you retjuii'o is not to be found in their
shop. You in-^iisl that it i.^ You know
where to lay your hand upon it The deputy
Forty-seven sl»nkes liis dr<.>w8y head in sora-
nifcroas uubelii f You seek it out from its
du.sty, nmrUy hidiiig-|dace, and produce it
befi^re his unwilliiiu; face. lie opens another
eye, smiles, nods to you, and is away again
far into the seveiitli heaven. There is no
help for it, but to appropriate. tlie article and
pay for it on your next visit.
Number Forty-ei(;ht is a small bustling
variety of .Xloormnri, making a vast show of
doing a large stroke of business; but, as for oa
1 could ever perceive, doing next to nothing.
He bought largely, paid as regularly as most
of other numbers, was constantly opemng
i
30
HOUSEHOLD TTORDS.
[OiadHMd kf
Lugo packing-cnsw and cralcs, and sorting
out their contfnls into heaps; but I never
rotnunibcreJ to have soon a singlo customer
within his shop. How the man lived was,
for a long time, a perfect mystery to me ; but
I learnt at length that he disposed of his
purchases entirely by means of itinerant
hawkers wlio, armed with a yard-measure
and a pair of scales, and followed by a pack
of loaded coolies groaning under huge tin
CMeS and buCTalo-skin trunkys, perambulated
from town to village, from house to hut; and
by dint of wheedling, pulling, and flattering,
succeeded in returning witli a bag full of
rupees and pice.
For Number Sixty-two I entortained a
more than ordinary respect. Unlike his
Moorish brethren ho possessed • remarkably
rational name; — Saybo Dora. Originally a
hawker, he had by his steady conduct won
the confidence of the merchants, who sup-
plied him with goods wherewith to open a
titore, at a time when such places did not
e-xist in town. From small beginnings, he
rose to |E:reat transactions ; and now, beside
a flourishing trade in the baza&r, carried on
pretty extensive operations in many smaller
towns throughout the country. It was by no
means an unusual thing for this siniply-clnd,
moan-looking trader to purchase in one day
from one merchant mufillns to the value of
n thousand pounds, crockery for half that
amount, and, perhaps, glass-ware for ss much
more. For these he would pay down ono
fnurth in hard cash, and so great was the
confidence reposed in him, that his bags of
rupees, labellod and endorsed with liis name
and the amount of their contenlti, were re-
ceived and placed in the strong-room of the
Englishnuin without being counted. Saybo
Dora's name on the packages gave thom cur-
reacy.
So much for their business aspect; bjt
once I paid a visit to Forty-two in hi* private
dwelling. In one of the dullest, dirtiest, and
most Hqualid-lookiiig streets of the black
town dwelt he of the muffln-cnp and portly
person, The hut was perched high up on a
natural parapet of red iron-stone, with a
glaeier of rubbish in front. The day had l>een
fearfully iiot, even for India ; the very road-
way was scorching to the feet though the sun
had Bet, yet the tiny windows and the rara-
Bhackling door were all closed. Nobody wa.s
lying dead in the house, as I first imagined
might he the case. They had only shut out
the heat
I found Forty-two enveloped in a sort of
winding-sheet, reclining on some coarse mat-
ting, and snioking a very large and dirty
hookah. A brazen vessel was by his side, a
hnum lamp swung from the ceiling; and, on n
curiously csarved ebony stand, was a little sort
of Rtew-pan cninu.s a handle HUcd with sweet-
meats. In an adjoining part of the dwelling,
divided off only by some loose drapery for
want of c door, lay sprawling on the earthen
floor a leash of infantine, embryo Forty-twos;
while^ shrouded in an impenetrab!* mass of
lauslin, crouched Mrs. Forty-two, masticating
tobacco kavos and betel nut Smoking, eating
sweetmeats and curry, and sleeping foi-m the
sum total of the earthly enjoyraenti of tlua
race of people. Their sole exception to thia
dreary, ca^;ed existence being an oixasional
religious festival, or a pilgrimage to some
shrine of great s.inctity, when the muslin-
shrouded wife, the mu.slin-loss children, the
swcebueats, the hookah, and the braxcn ves-
sels are packed into a hackery which, with
its huge white bullock, jingles and creaks over
the ruts and stones as though the wheels
and a.\le had got a touch of St. Vitus's
dance, and for that one day at any rate
Number Forty-two may be fairly said to be
out of town.
^\J^ EXPLODED MAGAZINE.
SovE years, ten or a dozen ago, during
the Repeal agitation conducted by the late
Mr. O'ConncIl, an outburst of retrospective
patriotism and poesy took place in a ballad
furnished willi the title, " Who fears to speak
of 'Ninety-eight?" It was first published
in a newspaper, and referred, I suppose, to
the unhappy rebellion which in tfiat year
desolated the fairest portion of Ireland ; but
I have never read it, nor, beyond its title,
have r anything more to do with it here
It awakens no partisan feeiiugs within me,
and might as well be the song of The IJnyne
Water, or the Shan van Vatigli, Vinegar Hill,
or Cn>j>(>ie9 lie down — intensely orange, or
vividly green, for any effect it could have on
my susceptibilities.
'Ninety -eight was not an anntts mirabilu,
although Nelson's great victory at .\boukir
was won in its autuiim. But every year was
one of wonder then, and the age was one of
nmrvels. Dynasties and thrones were being
pounded up by the French armies like rotr
ten bones in mortars. Wherever over the
globe there were no wars, there were, at
least, rumors uf wars. And yet the world
wagged, and the seasons came and went
There were as many wet and sunny days
under republics as there had been under mo-
narchies — in anarclu' as in tranquillity. Tha
monthn brought their same tribute of fruit,
or flower.H, or grain ; and were the same
months, though the calendar had been remo-
delled, and they were henceforth to be Fruo
tidors, Therniidors, or Pentoses. And it
was the same death that kings sufftTud on the
scaffold and soldiers in the tield that a poor
shepherd or a servant maid suffers to-day,
and that you and I may suffer tu-morrow.
Sleeves nnd ho.sc may alter, but legs and anus
remain the same. Hunger was hunger and
thirst thirst in 'Ninety-eight as it is in 'Fifty-
three.
The other day, rambling about, I stumbled
upon an odd volume of an old Magazine for
ih=
CbatlM DMksB*^]
AN EXPLODED MAGAZINE.
II
my isTourite 'Ninetj-eiglit. Tltis was at a
book-stall close to the Four Courts, Dublin ;
and I iiuaieJiiitc'y h'.'c.ime its po.sscasor atthvi
OuUttJofscv iliug. The book-stall
keeper, who . . Sir Charles Grandison
of bibliopolci, politely offered to send my
purehode home for me, but I took it to my
habitat myself and revelled in 'Nin«>ty-cight
half that night.
I found ray Mag. to he in the hundred and
third volume of ius age, a very rv!.spectable
antiquity even in 'Ninety-eight; and, had it
lived to the present day, it would have been a
very Methuselah ainong Mags ; but the work
went the way of all waste paper, I am afraid,
years ago. f cannot pretend to give you any
detailed description of its contents ; for, as per
title-page they included letters, debates, anti-
quity, philosophy, mechanics, husbdndry,
pirdomng, Qfteen more subjects, and "other
txtti And scicucfei," besides " an itnpartitd
account of books in several languages," the
" state of learning in Europe," and the " now
theatrical entertainments of 'Ninety-eight.
And mark that my Mag was only a half-
year's volume, from June to December. So
1 will say very little about philosophy or
husbandry, the state of European learning,
and the new thcatric^il entertainments of
'Ninety-eight, merely culling as I go on what
seems to me curious, principally antong
the domestic occurrences of my year, and
which may intei-cst even those Mho have
no peculiar solicitude concerning 'Ninety-
ctghL
First, I found a frontispiece elegantly
engraved on copperplate, representing a
wood or bosky thicket, in which reposed a
lady in the coetumo of Queen EUizabcth,
but much handsomer; behind her the poet
Dante; by her side a lady in a Grecian
costume, name unknowii ; and around her a
lion, several sheep, and a rabbit In the fore-
ground a hideous dwarf in a fancy dres.q,
whom I was uncertain whether to take for
the fabulist Esop or the Polish Count Boru-
]aw»ki, was presenting a laurel wreath to a
gentleman in a full bottomed wig, large cuffs,
rnlBcs, shorts and buckles, who seemed very
anxious to get the wreath indeed, and wa.s
incited thereto by the poet Horace; who
egged him on with a large scroll, backed up
by another gentleman, of whoso person or
dress nothing was visible but a very volumi-
nous wig looming above his friend's shoiJder,
mad was on that account perhaps intended
KS an allegoiy of Mr. Charles James ¥ox.
On reference to ray Mag. for an explication
of this engraving, I was informed that it was
emblematic of Summer, and some lines from
the Seasons followe*! the information ; but ns
I could not see what he of the wig and ruffle
had to do with summer and Queen Elizabeth,
I considered it and passed it, over aa a mystery
of 'Ninety-eight, to be bo1v«1 by future study
and niMarcb.
Mrs. Muscadine writes to the editor during
June, complaining of the mania for volun-
teering. She bewails the fact that her hus-
band, .and all the hosbanda of ho* acquaintance,
have now the same squareness of the shoulders
to the body and the front, their heels arc all
in a line, and their thumbs are all as far back
as the seams of their trousers. She complains
that her husband's aiFections are completely
alienated from her by the rival charm of one
Brown Boss, and that at prayer time he calls
out "front rank, kneel!" for all 'of which
she rates th* Duke of York heartily, but
gooil humouredly. I wonder whether the rei-
embodiment of the Militia, or the recollections
of Chobham will call forth any Mrs. Mu.sca-
dines in 'Fiftj'-eight Next I find a long
biography of John Wilkes. Wilkes died in
the year before. In addition to his biogra-
phy, ray Mag. has this month a notice of Dr.
Farmer, the author of the Essay on the
learning of Sbakspeare, also deceased in
'Ninety-seven. In the House of Lords, on
the twenty-eighth of March (my Mag. only
reports it in June), the Bishop of Rochester
attributes the numerous applications for
divorces, which have recently taken place in
ttieir lordships' House, to the Jacobinical
principles which had been inculcated from
Prance. In the House of Commons, on the
third of April, on a motion for leave to bring
in a bill for the abolition of the slave trade at
a period to be specified, whicli had been
moved by Mr. Wilberforce, there aro eighty-
three ayes, and eighty-seven noes — m.ajority
for the middle passage, the harracoons, tho
bilboes, and the cartwhip, four.
April the twcnty-fldh, in a social little
committee of ways and means, Mr. Pitt
moves for a trille of twelve millions eight
hundred and fifly-scven thousand pounds
sterling for tho army. He states, pleasantly,
that he thought lost Christmas that ten
millions cr so might have done ; but that
" into the particulars of that sum ho will lot
now enter." Considerate, this, of the pilot
that weathereii the storm. To make things
plensant he clap» on, in the same cosy little
committee, tho " additional tax upon s-ilt,"
and the " additional duty upon tea," and the
"tax on armoriid liearings," " which," saya
Mr. Pitt, " re.sts upon a principle exceedingly
dtlFerent," which in truth it does.
Three-fourths of this month's number of
my Mag. arc occupied with a narrative of
the events of<the Irish rebollion, and of the
battle of Vinegar Hill. They belong to
history.
On May tho third tlic Whig Club dine
together at the Freemasons' Tavern, Lon-
don, Mr. Fox in the chair. They are all very
nierry, ani Mr. Fox gives the " Sovereignty
of the Pco[ile" (the Habeas Corpus Act has
just been suspcn<lc<l). The Duke of Norfolk,
on his health being drunk, sensibly observes,
that " where the people hrive no rights, the
nobility have no privileges worth enjoying;"
and tho Duke of Bedford in a neat speech
I
C2
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
^ConilacWd b)
intimntcs that tho meeting is respectiiVjlo.
-Mr. Erskino is rather glum ; and wh«i his
henltli is drunk, couplttl with " Trial by
Jury," he contents himself with merely
thanking the company, telling them that they
know the reason wliy he is silent Where-
upon Mr. Sheridan (indefatigable in the pur-
suit of a joke under difficulties) guts up and
proposes, " Our absent friend, the Habeas
Corpus ;" at which it needs no very rctros[)ec-
tivo effort of second sight to see the bumpers
tossed off, and hear them jingled lustily by
the Whig Club.
The suspension of "our absent friend"
authorises, on the first of June, the arrest by
Town.send, the How -street ofliecr, of Mr. Ag«r,
a barrister, Mr. Curran (the son of the
Curran), Mr. Stewart, and the Hon. V. D.
LawleM (now Lnnl Cloncurry, and still alive
I think), all under the authority of the Duke
of Portland's warrant on a charge of trco-son-
ablo practices. Failing our " absent friend,"
justice, in the shape of Mr. Townaend, lays
hold of Jfr. Lawless's French valet and of
his papers. Mr. Lawless was taken in SL
Albnn's Place, Pall Mall, — that peaceful,
shady, tranquil little thoroughfare, hard
by the Opera Arcade, the Piilraos of half-pay
officers, 'Tv9 as difficult K>r mc to fancy an
arrest for high trea~<on in St. .\lban's Place,
as to picture the rotting skulls of Jacobites
over Tumple Bar ; yet both have been almost
within the memory of man.
Od the seventh of June three persons
named Reeves, Wilkinson, and Adams, are
hangwl in front of Newgate. .-Vll for forgery.
My Mag. says that this was " the rao.st awful
example of justice ever witnessed." Doubt-
1«»; but the exampK", however awful, was
not efficacious enough to prevent its repetition
many many more times in 'Ninety -eight. On
the eighth of June there i.s another awful
example (though my Mag. does not say
bo) on Ptjinenden Heath, one O'Coiglcy
being hanged for high treason, in carry-
ing on an improper correspondence with the
French.
The next day dies, in Newgate, Dublin, of his
wounds, Lord Edward Fitzgerald, son of the
Duke of Leinster. On the twenty -first of May
a proclamation offering a thougand pounds
reward for his capture liacl been issued.
Through tho treachery of a servant-girl the
place of his retreat was made known. A Cap-
tain Ryan, Mr. Swan, a magistrate, and the
well-known Major Sin; went with three
coaches and some soldiers, aa privately as
pos-sible to tho house of one Murphy, a
fcather-dreasor, in Thomas-street. There
they found Lord Edward lying on a bod,
witliout his coat and shoes. He feigned,
at first, to surrender ; but a desperate
struggle ensued, ho being provided with a
cut-and-thrust dagger. With this he gave
Captain Ry\n S"ven wounds between the
collar and the waistband, and Swan tho justice
t^o. He was at last disabled by a pistol-shot
from Major SiiT; overpowered, TOn<!uctod to
the castio, and thence to Xevvp:ile, where, as
I have said, he died on the ninth of June.
Captain Ryan died of his wounds two days
before his prisoner. Major Sirr lived till
within a short pcriotlof the present day. Ho
was for many years one of the Dublin city
magistrate*", and sat in the Carriage Court to
determine ciisjjules and bear complaints
against that eccentric race of beings, the
I>ublin car-drivers. He was of cour--*o cor-
dially hated by all the cabbies. One Jehu, a
most inveterate declarer of tho thing which
was not, on being remonstrated with by tho
uslier of the Court for tergivers.ition (to use
a mild word) retorted " Mu.sha then ! Cock
him up with the truth ! It's more than I
over told the likes of him!" Singiilarly
enough Jfajor Sirr's last moments were spent
among his enemies. He ^^•as tiikcn mortallj
ill whilo riding in an inside car, and was
scarcely carried from it before he died ; it
was even currently reported that ho did
actually dio in the vehicle. A short time after
his death a cnr-drii'cr was summonsed (or, as
t!ie carman calls it, " wrote by tho polis") for
stumping a brother whip, i. e. inveigling a
fare away from him. " I wouldn't a minded
his stumping 1110," said the complainant ; " but
cEdn't he call out, when the laily was getting
into t!io kyar, thnt it was loinc was the kyar
that the black ould major died in ? And one
couldn't sLiiod that yer lionourl"
In the month of July my Msig. has great
news from the Convict Settlement at Botany
Bay. Not the least curious among these is tho
niitificalion of the appointment of the noto-
rious George Barriiigton the pickpocket to be
a peacc-olRwT or superintendent of convicts —
with a grant of thirty acres of land, and a war-
rant of emancipation. I5«irrington h.id. ren-
dered considerable services to the executive
during a mutiny on the pass.ige out, nTtd since
hi.s arrival in the colony had behaved himself
to the entire satisfaction of the authoritie.s. I
believe he died a magistrate, in ea.sy circum-
stances, and univcrsixlly respccteiL
But tho most noteworthy item in this
Antipodean budget, i-s the account of the
opening of a theatre at Sydney ; the manager
(Mr. Johr. Sparrow), tlio actors and actrcs.sca
and tho inajority of the audience being con-
victs. Of tlie men Green, and of tho women
Miss Davis, best deserved to be calle<l actors.
The first performance appropriately com-
mcnee<i with tlie " Fair Penitent," and on ano-
ther occasion the "Revenge," and the "Hotel,"
were presented. The dresses were chiefly
made by the company themselves; but some
veteran costumes and properties from tho
York Theatre were among tho best that
made their appearance. Tho motto of theso
histrionic exiles was modest and well chosen,
being " We cannot command, but will
endeavour to deserve success." I supposo
that it was on this occasion that the
celebrated prologue, tho produclion of Mr-
II
DickcM.]
AN EXPLODED lilAGAZINL
28
Barringion, was spoken, in which woro to
be found tia appropriate lines : —
" Troo pntriols we, for bo it understood
W.e left cuit cOB&try tor our country's good/'
The Hiithoritics on licensing the undcr-
takini; gave the manager to understand that
the slightest infraction of propriety would be
visited by the banishment of the entire
company to aiiotlier setth'nient, there to work
Ln chains. The coercive aaslership of the
revels is somewhat nkin to the theatric*!
discipline in u.su in the Italian provinces
under Austrian yoke, where refractory tenors
are not unfrequently threatened with the
bastinado by the military commandant, and
pnma donnas in the sulkH arc marched o(f to
the guard-house bet\vc«n two files of Croat
Grenadiers. The principal drawback to the
prosperity of the Sydney theatricals scctns,
•Gcording to my Mag., to have been the
system of accepting at the doors, in lieu of
the price of admission, as milch flour, beef, or
rum, as the manager chose to consider an
equivalent It was feared that this would
act like gambling, as an inducement to the
convicts to rob ; and more serious evil arose
in the fivqucnt losses of watches and money
by the respi.-ctable portion of the audience
during the performances, and in the advan-
tage some of the worst of the fair penitents
took of the absence of tlio inhabitants at the
theatre to break into their houses, and rob
them of their contents.
On the twenty -eighth of July my con-stant
Mag. returns to the "Awful Examples." Two
gentlemen, borriutere and brothers, Henry
and John Sheared, are hanged and decapitated
in Dublin for high treason. At the List
moment an urgent appeal was made to the
Government for mercy, were it even to otic
of the brothers, and with an offer on their
rarts to make ample confessions ; but the
Gtovcrnment replied "That they had a full
knowledge of everything that could come out
in confe«.siun, and that the law must take its
course." Which the law does.
July the twenty-first, William Whiley Ja
flogged through the fleet at Portsmouth for
mutmy on board Her Majesty's ship Pluto.
On the same day, Brian, for the same mutiny
on board the tame ship, is banged at the
yard-arm.
July the twenty-third, McCann is tried for
high treason in Dublin, as being the author
of some treasonable papers found in the house
of Mr. Oliver Bond. He i« found guilty,
sentenced to death, and hanged on the nine-
teenth of August On the twenty-sixth,
Sfichael \7illiam Byrne is also tried for the
same offence, and thw jury, after five tninutfs'
consideration, And him guilty. He is impeni-
tent, ^nd exclaims, " with a warm accompani-
oientof action," tluit "he glories in the event
of Viis trial." He is executed on the twcnty-
flllb rS August " Several other person!*,"
ado J my Mag. as if weary of particularising
the examples, "have also been hanged for
high treason during the present month."
On the thirty-first of July, the Blenheim,
a whale ship, arrives at Hull fro?n the Green-
land seas. Passing >Vhitcbooth Iloa<ls the
Nonsuch and Redoubt men-of-war, guard-
^ips, fire scvcr.'il shot into her (as a species
of welcome, to England, home, and beauty,
I presume), but without effect Three boats
arc then matmed and sent towards her, for
the purpose of impressing the seamen of the
Blenheim ; but these opinionated mariners
"agree to differ" from the men-of-war's
men, and arming} thetnsulves with harpoons,
Greenland knives, an<I spears, resolutely op-
pose their coming on board The Nautilus
sloop of war, havinir, by this time, joined the
other two, also sends a boat, and hres more
than thirty shot into her " with intent to
bring her to," but without effect A dc.idly
struggle ensues ; and the seamen of the
whale ship fire a swivel, loaded with grape-
shot, into the mcn-of-war'a boat, and des-
perately wound two men and an officer ; and
at liLst their opponents row oil'. One of the
woundctl int-n dies in the hospital the next
night, «nd the life of another is despairLMi of;
whereupon, a coroner's jury sit on thu- body
of the scuuian deceased, and return a verdict
of wilful murder a;;ain.st a person unknown.
Meanwhile, the crew of the Blenheim hav«
reached the .shore and concealed themselvoa
— none of tlicm being wounded. I wonder,
if any one of them had been killed, and the
same coroner's jury had sat on the corpse,
what would have been the verdict upon rti>«.
I mu.st not omit to state (hat, the day afler
this abominable affray, warrants are issued
for the .ip prehension of such of the Blenheim's
crew as had been identified by the crews of
the men-of-war boats. My Mag. docs not
state if they are ciptured or not; but our
friend the Habeas Corpus being still absent,
I am not without mi.«giving for them if they
are aiTcsted.
On the Second of August an event takes
place with which rao.st readers of the annaU
of the stage must be familiar. Mr. John
Palmer, a fiivourite actor, while enacting
the i)art of the " Stmngcr' in the Liverpool
theatre, drops down de.id upon the stage.
He is buried on the thirteenth, at Warton
near Liverpool, and mi his tombstone (with
questionable ttt.ste) arc engraven these awfully
significajat words —
" There m nnotliei and a better world 1"
My Mag., to add to the vulgar horror of the
catastrophe, stiites th.it these very words
were the Last ho uttcrud on earth ; but a
reference to the text of the Stranger will
show that the words m question are in thu
part of Mr.*?. TTaller.
On tlie sixth of September, my Mag. chro
nicies the rcHult of six informations heard
before the magistrates at Bow Street, London,
and laid by the Stamp Office against a
\
I
S4
IIOUSEHOLD WORDS.
Mr. Williams, for suffering, in his room in Old
Round Court, Stmnr], sundry pDraons to rend
tlie Daily .Advertiser, and other newspapers,
for (he consideration of one penny each. The
oITfnce being held to bo clearly made out,
Mr. Williams Ls convicted in the penalty of
five pounds on each information ; " which is
certainly sufficient," sagely concludes nly
Uag., " to convince the proprietors of reading
rooms that newspapers must not be among
the number of the publications which they
sufF(.T to he read for hire, or, as they caU it
(my Mag. is ironical) admi&sioa money."
From which it would appear likewise that
even penny news-rooni.<s have had their per-
secutions and their martyrs. Ludicrously
»nd iucowiistently enough my Mag. in thus
pleasantly rooording Mr. Williams' malprac-
ticoe, docs so in a "llistorical Chronicle,"
clearly news, and taxable accordingly, but of
which the Stamp Office docs not take the i
slightest notice.
On September eleventh, at six o'clock
in the cveninnr, the north-east hank of the
New Rivor bursts near Hornscy-house, and
inundates a circuit of four miles of meadow
land.
On the 1 7th September, Robert Ladbrook
Troys is tried for forger)'. Guiltv. Drath.
On the same day John Collins is mdictod at
the instance of the Stamp Office for forging a
platu to counterfeit the " two shilling hat
stamps." The principal evidence against him
18 that of ft Jew, Barnard Salomons, who
acknowledges hi.s having suffered about two
yelrs previou.sly, three months' imprisonment
for coining counterfeit halfpence. For the
forgery of the "two shilling hat stamits" tho
verdict on John Collins is, Guilt)'. Death.
The next day, the 18th, twenty-Sve nu-n arc
tried on board the ship Glaiiiator, at Ports-
mouth, fur mutiny. Nineteen are found Guilty.
Death. Thirteen are executed ; two are to
have two hundred lashes ; two one hundred,
and one \n acquitted. On the twentieth,
Mr. Silvester, tue common-seijcant at the
Old Bailey, pronounces judgment (Death)
upon ten men and four women. Twenty-
six are to be transported, twenty-six im-
prisoned, and two whipped. .\nd so from
month to month '\incty-cight pursues the
even tenor of its way. The " awful example"
harvcttt is unvaryingly fruitful ; but it would
bo wearisome to continue recording the
etatistici of each hemp crop.
Mr. Sabatier, impressed with the preva-
lence of poverty and crime in "Ninety -eight,
attempts to elucidate their CAU.ses. One great
caoflo of poverty according to (his gentle-
man is in "buying of unprofitable food.
I" Tea and bread and butter," he says, " is a
Tory unprofitable br'-akikst fgr working
people." Cheese and porter are still worse :
" The former of these have very little nourish-
ment, and the latter is costly." Unfbrtnnately
Mr. Sabaticr dors not point out the profit-
able food. A paramount muse of poverty is
keeping a pig; " a pig, if it runs about, con-
sumes time in looking afler it ; it frequently
gets into the pound; and eats up the scraps
of the family where there should bo none ; it
occasions the boiling of victuals merely for
the sake of the pot-liquor ; and then this
stunted, half- starved crcftturc must be
fattened." I wonder that in Mr, Sabatier's
virtuous indignation against the pig, he did not
add in aggravation of its crime.>t that it
squeaks in infancy and grunts when grown up,
and that in feeding, it puts its foot in ihc
trough, quit* ungcntecUy, Giving cliildrcn
pence to buy tarts is, in Mr. Sab.itier's eyes,
a heinous offence, and invariably productive
of poverty. He clenches Uis argument by «
moral piece on the downfall of the eldest
son of a peer, who was reduced by impro-
vidence (beginning with penny tartu) to
the s-id necessity of enlisting as a common
soldier.
The causes of crime, Mr. Sabaticr ascribes,
among others, to fijting the same punishment
to different crimes, tlic greater of which has
a tendency to conceal the lesser : To impu-
nity as in unconditional pardon, or in com-
muting dci^th into transportation; To the
confinement of prisoners before trial in
idleness and bad company ; To allowing legal
passages for escape : To proscribing a man's
character by visible dismemberment, such as
public whipping, the pillory, or the stocks ;
To legalising, or rather not prohibiting pawn-
broktre " and other receivers :" To pennitting
profligate characters to flU the religious
ministry ; To non-residence and neglect of
incumbents : To permitting mendicity : To
KulFcring seditionists to escape punishment:
To allowing temptations to lie in the way of
poor pcofile, such as game and wood in forests :
To the sale of spirituous liquors and lottery-
tickets : To levying high duties on foreign
commodities, and thereby encouraging smug-
gling. Among a variety of notions eminently
germane to 'Ninety-eight Mr. Salwtier, as it
will be seen, is in some respects many many
years in advance of iL
So I lay by my Mag. for the present
Years hence perhaps our grandchildren may
take up some exploded magazine for thiS
pressent year ; and, as they turn it cursorily
over, wonder how such things, therein re-
cordcil, could ever have been. I sincerely
trust, however, that littlo a<Ivnnced as wo
may \k\ 'Fifty-tiireo bag not evinced any
symptoms of rutrogression towards 'Ninety-
eight.
I
**iimaiar in their Mouth as E0U8EH0LD W0RD8:'-«<u»mf».
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
A WEEKLY JOURNAL
CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS.
Vol. VUL
McELBATH .t BARKER, PUBLISHERS.
Omct Ko. 11 Srkvci vmsTTt Hnr Taaic.
WUULE No. 181.
■ OUT FOR A WALEL
Toe people tritli portmanteaus, trunks,
Macintoshes, and umbrellas, bandUoxi'S, car-
pet-bags, sha-.' t'-'- ' ■--, and niuirclees,
gentlemen w 1 1 ,• caps and i-arry
,|r,rt..i 1...I I... .,..,.,^,. that you
li.T. . ' ■ boiif^tit a
ntA , -, , . I in Euro pi'.
but, tii'licvc me, j'ou mnst tread your way if
you dctiirc to feel honestly that you liavti
travelled it
I am not a gro&t traveller. Have nerer
been in the East, and never been in the West,
luve only board of the North Pole, and do
not up to tliia date entertam .iny idea that
I shall ever toko a passage to Australia.
Parriiig a quiet walk up the Moselle, and
little trips of that sort, I have never been
out of my own country. But I have spent
some of the happiest days of tny life afoot in
England.
I should recommend any one in want of a
good home walk not to stop out longer than
about a week. Dc may let the railway take
him quickly to new ground — it does not in
the Ica-st matter what or where ; there is no
dull ground anywhere for the pedestrian —
anil tlicn let him step out He should never
look up to the sky in fear, but in love and
enjoyment. The more change*! there arc in
it, the more variety and pleasure is provided
f.ir lurn. Let the sun beat at him, and the
\\ cheerily in his face, and the wind
i ill-hum(;ura out of him. He should
go out impeded with nothing; have no knap-
sack, not even a sly scrap of luggage in hiis hat,
no second coat upon bi.^ back, and no umbrella
in biR band. He should go out nothing but a
bi'l ' f ' red man, to have communion
til Mth nature. lie miLst make up
his Mijiiu iui- iho week to disreprard his per-
sonal appfftrruice. In fine exciting stormy
weather he will get a little draggle -t'ulod : he
muiit not mind that lie must be content
for the week with a comb, a tooth-brush, a
towel, and a pair of socks, in one coat pocket,
suii a single reserve shirt in the other. That
last-named garment will very likely have been
wet through once, and certainly be crumpled,
by the time ho puts it on. Its appearance
does not matter in the least ■, the purposes of
cleanliness will be fur the nonce sumciently
answered, and he must demand no more.
Every morning ho should' batlio in the first
sparkling stream with which he meets, and
that is why the towel should Ijc carried. More
impediment he ought not to lake with him.
Unless attached to it by habit he ought not
to tJike even a stick : bands absolutely free
are altogether preferable. I need not say
that he must have a little money in his purse ;
it ought, however, to be little, and should he
used only to satisfy simple wanti«.
It is not necessary that a \^^lk should last
a week. One may get ajoy that will become
a memory for ever out of the walking of a
smgle day or night I remember one night
taking a thirty miles' walk into Birmingham
to catch a train that started before sunrise.
There were not more shades of light between
sunset and darkness, than there were emo-
tions begotten by the scenery that shifted
during sucfi a walk. First, the long sun.set
shadows of the trees ; then a glimpse fronj a
hill top of t!ic Severn between deep banks
with the blue darkness of evening about it ;
thi'n twilight softening into delieious thought,
promoting gloom, and the moon rising over a
flat surface of trees and hedges, contrasting its
pure light with a red glare of fire on othcr
]>arts of the horicon, as I got into Wolvor-
hampton.
Properly I meant to have taken the train at
Wolverhampton, but I found the train gone
when 1 reached the little station, and there
were a couple of sleepy men sitting with a
lantern on one of the benches, making a great
noise in the place whenever they roughed or
moved their feet Tlicn they looked up when
they heard my footfall, and saw how the
mrjon threw the big shadow of mj- hat over the
railway sleepers. I was glad the train was gone,
and tnnlged away again rejoicing over the ten,
thirteen, or fifteen miles — I forget how many
they were — to Birminphani. That is the
most wonderful night walk in this coTiutry ;
all blighted soil, and glare of fire, and roar of
furnacos. Tho iiiten.sc purity and calm of the
moonlight and tho starlight seen from among
such fh-cs impress the mind with an entirely
new sensation. I got into Binningham a
couple of hours too soon, and found the town
calmly asleep. The place was my own, and
I occupied the empty streets with a full
heart, rejoicing.
I
I
I
L
9H
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[UnlMUtlf
One great source of enjoyment in that walk
vrns its uncxprutcdnuss. A walk is never so
good as when it comes upon one by surprise.
I h.ad set out orisinnlly, meaning to walk four
miles to the iriuil-eoiich, from an out-of-the-
way inn. I had not bwkeJ my place; the
mail was full; and so the walk began.
Another iiiii.rovi.sod walk wa.s coiitrivej in
conijiany. One quiet autumn afternoon, I sat
with a coupk' uf good friends, one old, one
Toung, in the ^ai-den of a rustic public-house
in Cheshire. There was a big tree overhead,
and a small spire among adjaceut bushes,
and there n'jis some tea (the produce of our
native hcdjjjes) on the table before us. Far
away the Mersey* glittered in the afti;rnrion
sun; the smoke of Liverpool dulled the
horizon. On the other side were the Welsh
mountains.
"Glorious oat-door weather!" said one
of us.
"How beautiful the mountains look!" said
another.
" I should like to be among them."
"Let us go 1"
Elder friend laughed, but yoilngcr friend
looked serious. " It is only nine miles to
Chester; wo e.in sleep there to-night, and
walk round North ^\'alos in about Ave daj^."
Elder friend thought us mad; but, fluding
us in earnest, an<l not disposed to be knw':fd
down by a mere clean shirt difliculiy he
agreed to carry word to our friends thiit we
should be home in less than a week. Off
wo set
Oh, tlio delight of a first trudge into North
"Wales thus suddenly presented to the fancy ;
when satisfaction comes at once with the
first burst of strong desire. We might linve
made up our minds to go on that day fort-
night, hare thought about it, have got up out
of our beds to start, and finnlly have set
about it as a preconcerted business, vcith a
fog upon our spirits. But we did nothing so
stupid. Since there wa.s no rca.«;on why wc
should not give rein to the humour, while
•ur hearts were open to the promised pleasure
and under the very sunlight, while still in the
very mood of buoyancy that had begotten the
desire to tread the mountains, off we wont.
The Cheshire girls in their Welsh jackets
were figures on the frontisinece of llie great
bock ".f pictures with which wc were setting
on. t; 11\ our memories. Villages fixed them-
Belres house by house, and black beam by
black beam, u[ion our hearts. We can tell
any man upon our deatli-bcd.s how many geese
were busy aboyt nothing on a little triangle
of green that faced us as wc rested by the
handle of a village pump. The short cut
oTer the fields that we made brought u.-?, to
our dismay, when evening was far iidvanccd,
down to the dirty banks of the broad estuary
of the Dec — evur so many miles from Chester
— and there were our Welsh mountains
ominously full of night, over the way, quite
ii»ocenibl&
That is another of the glories of foot
travelling. I would not give a song for the
society of a pedestrian who was not a bold
fellow at short cuts. There is an excitement
in trespassiog and going astray out of the
bondage of paths over an unknown eountty—
steeple-chasing for a place to which one has
never been in his life before, but which he
hopes by his superior ingenuity to get at by
a rood unknown to any of his ffllow-crcaturcaL
The wonder as to what may be the result^
and the strong, wholesome emotion that
makes the heart beat, as though one had
taken suddenly a shower bath when something
wonderfully unexpected comes in sight, is a
fine tonic for the jaded spirits. It was a fine
surjirise for us to come down upon the muddy
waters of the Dee, when we believed we
might l>e on the point of getting into Chester.
A Hncr surprise of the kiud is to come down
from behind -n hill upon the dashing breakers
of the Bca itself by moonlight, when ono
thinks ho has achieved a short cut to some
town twenty miles inland. Tlie dushing of
fire is nearly as good an accompaiiinient to
such a surprise as the dashing of water. I
remember one night being out on business
in deep snow, f was on horseback then.
Trying to get home in the dark, long after
midnight, I became more and more per-
plexed ; and suddenly a turn of the road
brought me into the immediate prcsscnce of a
set of blast furnaces, spouting up fire into the
daiV sky, and clamouring fiercely in my cara.
I did not in the least know what blikst fur-
naces they were, had never seen them before;
and their huge {tower made me aghoet
at the sense of my own heljilessness. 1 suj>
pose that is the reason why such a thing
as a bla.st furnace, or the thunder of the soa
upon a shore, can impress helpless mortola
who have lost their way with such peculiar
emotion. It is an emotion very wholesome in
the main, as every emotion is that is entirely
natural.
To go back to the Dee. I need not say that
having corae upon its estuary, we had nothing
to do but trace the river up its course to find
our way to Chester. There we slept soundly,
true to our purpose, and, the next mornings
we set out into Wales. Some driy I may
think it worth while to trouble the world
with some of my experiences in Wales
during one or two trips aa a pedestrian.
T intend nothing of that sort now. Aa,I
write, I can recall the solemn closing of the
hills about our road at twilight, and the glit-
ter of the afternoon sun through the bushel
as we lay over the clear trout stream in some
happy valley. Wc enjoyed also the trout;
wo did indeed. We wore amused at the port-
manteau travellers, who at Llanbcris fur-
nished themselves with guides and ponies
and donkics (lacking mules), for the .iscent of
Snowdon, the great JBritish Chimborazo. The
path being obvious, wc took no guides, and
I umplj walked up after dinner and walked
I
down again. To the top of Snowdoti from
LkuiberLs is not ft bit more diilicult or com-
plex au adventure Otaa a cliiub up Snow Hill
from llolborn. Th* way from Bcddgelert is
more tedious.
Upon the strength of my first walk about
Wales I set up as a guide, and was showing a
friend over the Welsh mountains on a subse-
quent occasion. De did not full}- enjoy rain,
ajid set out afler brc-vkfast from (.'.'imarvon
one wet morning, only induced so to do by
the assurance that it was on!}' seven miles! lo
Llanbcris, and that I, being an old Welsh-
man, knew the way. But ways look different
in ditfcrent weather, espcciiJIy to people who
have only seen them once or twice. W'e got
up among unknown mountains, passed ro-
m&ntic lakes, over which now and then the
sun broke fitfully. The walk wa.s gloriou.s,
but we ware out of the Llanberis road ; and,
as li. shortly became evident, on the wr6ng
side of Snowdon. Then the rain c*me down
in sheets, and we arrived, wet through, and
Rowing famously, at a small stmg);ling vil-
lage. Disposed naturally to fortify our con-
stitutions with brandy and water, wc stopped
at the village inn. Pure AV'elsh — no English
spoUen. "llave you brandy ?" Shake of the
bcoti. " Have you rum ?" Shake of the head.
"Have you gin?" Nod— " Yek, yek." And
the good woman brought us whiskey. Each
of us had accordingly a gla-ss of hot whiskey
and water, for which the iaiullady knew
enough English to make a charge of twopenco
a head. Cheap, certainly, but we bad not
wherewith to pay, A dire catastrophe broke
in upon our peace, we had both I'.-ft Carnar-
von without change, and wore afloat with
nothing snuiUer than a sovereigrn. Change
for a Boven-ign was not to bo had in Bet-
twys. I doubt whether twenty shillings in
rilver could have been raised by the united
fundholders of the whole village. A sovereign
was too much to leave for fouq)encc with
a magnanimous wave of the hand and a
"nevermind the change;" while not to pay
go moderate and fair a demand, would have
been abeolutcly wicked. The woman stared
at us and grinned, and left us to do as we
could. Then my good genius reminded mo
that in the compendious list of my luggage
was included half-a-dozen postAge stamp.^i.
We thought the problem solved. I offered
them in triumph; but, alas! the worthy
woman shook her head — she had not the
leaat idea what they were. We said that
she might sell them — take them to the Post
Office; she shook her head and smiled on
helplessly. Nobody in Bettwys writes or
receives letters, it appeared. Then there
arose from the chimney-corner a grey-hcadef"
Welshman who had been looking on. He
picked up the stamps, examined the gum at
the backs, and looked at the Queen's heads.
Having sadsScd himself, he put the six
stamps into hia poucli, and gave the woman
fburpence. She curtsied and looked pleased.
The man looked solid and commercial. Tf
ever Bettwys bo a great town, that was the
sort of man you would expect to sec thriving
on 'Change there. He ought to have be«n
bom in Change Alley.
We went on through wind and sun and
rain, under wild snatches of cloud, Ihat rolled
in great volumes, choru.ssing to the eye a
music of their own through the broad heaven.
Instead of midiing a seven mile walk to Llan-
beri.-i, we traversed nineteen miles of a most
glorious country — all of it new and unex-
pected — and at last contrived to find our
way into Beddgelert ll was a place quite
out of our route; but the pedestrian who
cores about his route does' not deserve tho
legs he walks upon, Tliat unexpected march
upon Bcddgelert is another of my choice rc-
mctnbmnces.
I might go on conjuring up such recol-
lections by tho hour together, but I do not
want to be a bore, so I will leave off I have
wished simply to show people how they may
go out for a pleasant walk. Tlicre is a fine
season now before us, though indeed every
season is fine to the man whom I should ro'
gard as a right-minded pedestrian. Only i
mean to say, that-a season of travelling caps,
trunks, portmanteftus, plaids, and so forth, has
set in ; and while half of our neighbours are
up the Kliine and down the Rhone, wo who
remain behind have no rea.son to envy any
man his continental triji.s. We have only to
make up our minds, and take a hearty walk
or two at horae in the old country.
A DEAD SECRET.
Is what manner 1 became acquainted with
that which follows, and from whom 1 had it,
it serves not to relate here. It is enough tliat
he teat hanged, and that this is his story.
* « « « •
" And how came you," I asked, "to be — " I
did not like to say hanged for fear of wounding
his delicacy, but I hinted my meaning by an
exiires.sivc gesture,
" How came I to bo hanged?" ho echoed
in ft tone of strident hoarscne&s, " You would
like to know all about it — ^wouldn't you !"
lie was sitting opposite to rac at the end of
the walnut-tree tabic in his shirt and trousers,
hi.'j bare feet on the bore polished oak floor.
There was a dark bistro ring round each of
his eyes ; and they — being spherical nUhcr
than oval, with the pupils fixed iind coldly
shining in the centre of tho orbit.'; — vrcTO
more like tho.se of some wild nniniid than of
a man. The hue of his forehead, t«x>, was
ghastly and dingy ; blue, violet, anil yellow,
like a bruise that is five days old. There
wns a clammy sweat on his beard and under
do lobes of his ears ; and the sea-brcczo
coming gently through the open Venetians
(fcT tho night was Very sultry), farned his
long locks of coarse dark hair until you
might almost fancy you saw the sevpenta of
the Tories imthing in them. The fingers
of his lean hands were slightly crooked in-
MTirds, owing to some involuntary muscular
figicUty, and I nob'ccd that his whole frame
was pcrvadci] liy a nervons .trembling, lesa
iipu.<miodic than regular, and resembling that
which shakes a man afflirtcd with delirium
tremen*.
I had pivcn him a ci^r. After moistening
the end of it in his mouth, he said, bending
his eyes towards roe, but still more on the
wall behind m)' choir than on my face : " It's
no use. You may torture me, sconrge me,
flay me alive. You may rasp mo with rusty
files, and seethe me in vinegar, and rub my
eyes with gunpowder — but I can't tell you
where the child is. I don't know — I never
knew I How am I to make you believe that
I don't know — that T never knew?"
"My good friend," I remarked, "you do
not seem to be aware that, so far from wish-
ing you to tell mc where the child you allude
to is, I am not actuated by the slightest
curiosity to know anything about any child
whatever. Permit tt\c to observe that I can-
not sec the smallest connection between a
child and your being hanged."
" No connection?" retorted ray companion
with vehemence, " It w the connection — the
cause. Hut for tliat child I should never have
been hanged."
lie went on muttering and panting aliout
this child ; and I pushed towards him a bottle
of thin claret (Being liabltj to be called up
at nil hours of the night, I find it lighter
drinking than any other wine.) lie filknl a
large tumbler — which he emptied into hitii-
sel^ rather than drank — and I observed thnt
his lips were so dry and smooth with parched-
Dcss, that the liquid formed little globules of
tnoisturc on them, like drops of water on an
oil-cloth. Then bo began :
I had the misery to be bom (he said) about
eeven-and-thirty years ago. I was the off-
spring of a double misery, for ray mother
was a newly-made widow when 1 was born,
and she died in giving mo birth. What my
name was before I aj^sumcd the counterfeit
that has bln.stcd my life, I shall not tell you.
But it WM no patrician high-sounding title,
for my father was a petty tradesman, and my
mother had been a domestic servant Two
kinsmen succoured me in my orphanage.
They were both unclos ; one by my father's,
one by my mother's side. The former was a
retired sailor, rich, and a bachelor. The latter
waa a grocer, still in business, lie was a
widower, with one daughter, and not very
well-to-do in the world. They hated each
other with the sort of cold, fixed, and watch-
ful aversion that a savage cat has for a dog
too large for her to worry.
These two uncles playc<l a miserable game
of battledore and shuttlecock with me for
nearly fourteen years. I was bandied about
from one to the other, and equally maltreatetl
by both. Now, it was my Uncle CoUerer who
discovered that I was starred by my Uncle
Morbus, and took me under his protection.
Now, my Uncle Morbus Was indignant at my
Uncle follerer for beating me, and insistedJ
that I fihoiiiti rcttim to hia roof. I was beateQi
and starved by one, and starved and beaten
by the other. I etwlvavoured — with tliat can-
ning which brutal treatment will teach the
dullest child — to trim my sails to please both
uncles. I could only succeed by ministering
to the hatred they mutually had one for tb«J
other. I could only propitiate Collerer b»
abusing Morbus : the only road to Morbtu'i
short-lived favour was by defaming CoUerer.
Nor do I think I did either of them much in-
justice ; for they werti both wickcd-mindcd
old men. I believe either of them would
have allowed me to starve in the gutter ; only
each thought that, apptariTig to protect me,
would naturally spile the other.
When I waa about fifteen years old it oc-
curred to me, that I should make an election
for good and all between my uncles; else^
between these two knotty crabbed stools I
might fall to the ground. Naturally enough
I chose the rich uncle — tlic retired saflor,
Collerer; and, although I dare say he knew
I only clove to him for the ^ake of his money,
ho seemed perfectly satisfied with my hearty
abuse of my Uncle Morbus, and my "total ab-
negation of his society; for, for three years I
never went near his house, and when he met
me in the street I gave him the breadth of the
pavement, and recked nothing for ht.s shaking
hi.<5 fist at niP, and calling iiie so ungratefiu
hound. My Uncle Collerer, although retiroi .
fwrn the sea, had not left off making mone/.i
He lent it at usury on mortgages, and in'
numberless other crawling ways. I soon
became his right hand, and assisted him in
grinding the needv, in seUiug up poor trades-
men, and in buckling on the spurs of i>pen(t
thrifts when they started for the nice, the end
of which waa to be the jail. Mv uncle wM
pleased willi me ; and, although lie was mit-
erably parsimonious in his house-keeping
and in Lis allowance to mc, I had hopes and
lived on ; but very much in the faiihion of i
rat in a hole.
I had known Mary Morbus, the groocr'l
daughter, years before. She wa.s a sicklj
delicate child, and I had often teased and
struck and robbed her of her playthings, in
my evil childhood. But she grew up a bop-
passingly beautiful creature, and I loved her.
Wo met by stealth in the park outside her
father's door while he was o-sloep in church
on Sundays ; and I fancied she began to 1ot«
mc. There was little in raj' mind or person,
in my white (ace, elf-locks and dull speech to
captivate a girl j but her heart was full of love^
and its brightness gilded my miserable clay,
I felt my heart newly opened. I hoped for
something more than my uncle's money bagSi
We interchanged all the flighty vowsof ctcP'
lasting alfeetion and constancy common ts
boyg and girls ; and aJthough wc knew the
iU
f
A DEAD SECRET.
29
rce hstredfi that stood betwixt us and
ewe hit the accomplishment of our
time and fi)rtun«, and went on
uid loving.
evening, at snpper-timc — for which
re had me heel of a Dutch chci"^, a
' seconds bread, and a pint of small
I noticed that my UncU Collerer looked
nalignant and sullen than ui^uol. Ue
Uttic, and bit bis food as if hu had a
gainst it When supper waa urer, he
an old worm-eaten Viurcau in wliich
1 wont to keep document* of value ;
Jong out a bundle of papers, untied
pa to road them. I took little heed of
»r his favourite course of evening rcad-
I bonds and mortgage dwth ; and on
T8 of bills of exchange falling Juo be
ipond hours in poring over tlic acccpt-
irid endorsement'^, and even in bed
.Id lie awake half tli- n'n-lit moaning
>oning lest the bill. i be paid
morrow. After err _ uiing and
these papers, he toased them over to
i left the room willtout a word. Then
1 him going up stairs to the top of the
where mv room wiw.
the packet with trembling hands
ling heart I found every sinido'
'^had written to Mary Morbus. The
semi'd to turn round. The white sheet
ind the black letters dancing on it were
)u]d see. Ail beyond — the room, the
the world — waa one black unutt«:rabIo
darkness. I tried to rearl a hne — a
ad knovra by heart for months ; but,
scared senses, it mi|;ht as well have
baldee. Then my uncle's heavy step
ard on the stairs.
mtcrod the room, dragging after him
I black portmanteau in which I kept
I I was able to call my own. " I hap-
have a key that opens this," he said,
lave read every one of the fine love-
that silly girl has sent you. But I
HO much more ediflod by the perus.il
(«, which I only received from your
ids Uorbu.s — stituiglc him! — last night
covetous hunks, am 1 1 Ton live in
do you I Hope told a flattering talc,
ung frienib I've only two words to
you," continued my uncle, after a few
s' composed silence on his part, and of
sinitniuttion on mine. " All your rags
that trunk. Either give up Ma^
i now and for ever, and write a
» hor here in my presence to that
-or turn out into the street and never
our face hcr« again. Make up vour
uickly, and for good." He then ftlled
a and lighted it
lat he sat composedly smoking his pipe,
employed in making up my wretched
liive, fear, interest, avarice — cursed
■ — alternately gained aaoendancy within
Lt length there came a craven inspira-
lat I might temporise; that by pre-
tending to renounce Mary, and yet secretly
assuring her of my constancy, I might pbiy
a double game, and yet live in hopes of
succeeding to my uncle's wealth. To ifty
shame and conAision, I caught at this coward
expedient, and signified my willingness to do
as my uncle desired.
" Write then," he rosimied, flinging me a
sheet of letter-paper and a pen. "I will
dicUte."
I took the pen ; and following his dicta-
tion wrote, I scarcely can tull what now ; but
I sappo.se some abject words to Mary, saying
that 1 resigned all claim to her hand.
" That'll do very nicelv, nephew," said mr
ancle, when I had fini.slied. " We needa t
fold it, or seal it, or post it, because — he, he,
he ! — we can deliver it on the spot" Wo
were in the front parlour, which was sepa-
rated from the back room by a pair of folding-
doors. M}' uncle got up, opened one of these ;
an<J, with a mock bow, ushered in my Uncle
Morbus and my cousin Mary.
" A letter for you, my dear," grinned the
old wretch; "a letter from your true lore.
Though I dare say you'll have no occasion to
read it, for you must have heard mo. I speak
plain enough, though I am asthmatic, and
can't lost long — can't last long — eh, nephew V
This was a quotation from one of my own
letters.
When Mary bxik the letter from my uncle,
her hand shook tt.s with the pal'iy. But, when
I besought her to look at oil; und passion-
ately adjured her to bcticvu that I was yet
true to her, she turned on me a glance of
scornful incredulity: and, crushing the
miserable paper in her hand, cost it con-
temptuously from her.
" Vou marry my daughter," my Uncle
Morbus piped forth — " you ?" Your father
couldn't pay two-and-twopcnce in the poimih
He owed me money, he owesS mo money to
this day. Why ain't there laws to make sons
pay their fathers' debts? You marry iny
daughter I Do you think I'd h.ive yjiur
fatlier's son — do you think I'd have your
uncle's nephew for my son-in-law?" I could
SCO that the temporary bond of union between
my two uncles was already beginning to
loosen ; and a wretched hope sprang up with-
in me.
" Oct out of my house, you and your niece,
tool" cried my Uncle Collerer. "You've
served my turn, and I've served yours. Now,
go I"
I could hear the two old men fiercely, yet
ffeebly, i^uftrrelling in iho passage, and Mary
weeping piteously without saying a word.
Then the great street door was banged to,
and my uncle came in, muttering and panting.
" I hope you are satisfied now, uncle," I
■aid.
'" Satisfied !" he cried with a tort of shriek,
catching up the great earthen jar, with the
leaden top, in whith ho kept his tobacco, aa
though be oaeant to fling it at me. "Satisfied I
i
ao
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
ICo»aiic««« I
— ril satisfy you : go. Go ! and never let me
Bcc your hang-dog face again ! "
'' You surely do not intend to turn me out
of doors, uncle," I f&ltcred.
"March, bag and baggage. If you arc
here a minute longer Fll call the police.
Go!" And he pointed to the door.
" But where am I to go ?" I asketl.
" Go and beg," «aiii my uncle ; " go and
cringe to your dear Uncle ilorbus. Go antl rot."
So saying he opened the door, kickcil my
trunk into the hall,_^thrust mc out of the room
and into the street, find pushed my portmnntenu
after me, without my mukinj the slightest
resistance. IJc Blammed the door in my face,
and left me in the open street, at twelve
o'clock at night
I .slept thitt ntght at a coffee-shop. I lind
a few shillings in my pocket; «nd, next
morning I took a Imlging at, I think, four
shillings a week, in a court, somewhere up a
back street W'tween Gray's Inn and Le.ither
Liine, [lolborn. My room was at the top
of the hou.sc. The court below swarmed
with dirty, ragged children. My lodging was
a back garret ; and, when I opened the win-
dow I could only see a narrow strip of sky,
and a foul heap of sooty roofs, chimney-pots
and leadii, with the great dingy brick tower
of a church towering above all. Where the
boily of the church was I never knew.
I wrote letter afler letter to ray uncles
and to .\I;iry, but never received a line
in answer. I wandered about the street-;
It!] day, feeding on saveloys and penny loaves.
I went to my wretched bed by dayliglit,
and groaned for darkness to come ; then
foancd th;vt it might grow light again,
knew no one to whom I could apply for
employment, and knew no means by which
I could olftiiin it The hou.so I lived in
and the neighbourhood were full of fweign
refugees and street mountebanks whose jiirgcm
I could not underiitaiid. My little stock of
money slowly dwindled away ; ftnd,in ten days,
my mind wa.s ripo for suicide. You must
serve an apprenticeship to acquire that ripe-
Dttsa. Crowded strijei*, utter desolation and
friendlRSsnew in them, scanty food, and the
knowledge that, when you have spent all your
money and sold your coat and waistcoat, you
must starve, are the best masters. They produce
that frame of mind which coroners' juricfs call
temporary insanity. I determined to die. T ex-
pended my l.-ust coin in purchasing lauda-
num at dilTiTcnt cheroiiiLs' sliri))s — n pt-nny-
worth Btcachj which, I, said, I wanted for the
toothache ; for I knew they would notsupfily
A large quantity to a stranger. I took my
dozen phials home, and poured their contents
into a broken mug that stood on my wa.sh-
hand stand. I locked the door, sat down
on my fatal black portmanteau, and tried to
pray ; but I could not
It was about nine in the evening, in the
summer time, and the room was in that state
of semi-obscurity you call " between the
lights." White I sat on my black port-
manteau, I heard through my gaiTct window,
which was wide open, a loud noise ; a confusion
of angry voice."!, .in which I could not dis-
tinguish one word I could conqtrehend. The
noise was followed by a pistol-shot I he«r
it now, as distinctly as I beard it twenty
years ago ; and theu another. As I look«d
out of tiio window, I saw a pair of hands
covered with blood, clutching the sill, and I
heard a voice imploring help for God's sake I
Scnreely knowing what I did, I drew up
from the lead& below and into the room the
body of a man, who.so face was one miL<%s of
blood — like a crimson mask. He stood upright
on the floor when I had helped him in ; his
face glaring at me like the spot one sees after
gazing too long at the sun. Then he began
to staggtr ; and went reeling alxiut the room,
catching at the window curtain, the table, the
wall, and leaving traccsof his blood whcruvor
he went — 1 following him in an agony — unffl
he fell faoc-forcmost on the bed.
I lit a candle as well as I could. lie wu
quite dead. Ilis features were so scorchod|
and mangled, and drenclicd, that not one
trait was able to l>e distinguished. The pi&tol
must have been discharged full in his fkc«,
(or some of his long black hair wa.s burned oft
He held, clasi)cd in hi.s left hand, a pistol
which evidently had t>een recently discharged.
I .sat by the side of thi.s horrible object
twenty minutes or more waiting for the alarm
which I thought must necessarily follow, and
restdving what I should do. But all wiis as
silent as the grhve. No one in the houM
seemed to have heard the pistol shot, and no
one without seemed to have heeded it. I
looked from the window ; but the dingey mass
of roofs and chimneys had grown Uack with
night and I could perceive nothing moving.
Only, as I htsld my candle out of the windowit
mirrored itself dully in a pool of blood on tlu
leads below,
I began to think I might be accused of tho
murder of this unknown man. I, who had
so lately courted a violent death, began to fett
it, and to shake like an aspen at the thought
of the gallow.s. Then I tried to persuada
myself that it was all a horrible dream:
but there, on the bed, was the dreadful dead
man in his blood, and all about the room
were the marks of his gory fingers.
I began to examine the body more mi-
nutely. The dead man was almost exactly of
my height and stoutness. Of his age I could
not judge. His hnir was long and black like
mine. In one of his pockets 1 found a pocket-
book, containing a mass of closely-written
sheets of very thin paper, in a character
utterly incom[)rehensib]c to me ; morcoTer,
there was a roll of English bank-notea to
a very considerable amount. In his waist-
coat pocket was a gold watch ; and, in ft
silken girdle round his waist, were two
hundred English sovereigns and louis d'ors.
What fiend stood at my elbow while I
OuiIm D(ck<M.]
A DEAD SECRET.
81
made tbia exanxination I know not The
plan I fixfil upon was not long revolved in my
minil. It svLined l«> Start up maturoJ, like
Uiuerva, fi-vjiu the lieadof Jupitor. I was re-
solved. Tlic dead should bu alive, and the live
man, dead. In les< 'im" tinn it takes to tell,
I bad stripped the ■ 'd it in tny own
clothes, aJi^^llBed tin : ^^ garments, and
secured the pocket-book, the watch, and the
" money about ray person. Then 1 overturned
the )ight«xl candle on to the bed, slouched my
bat over my eyes, and stole down stairs. No
man met me on the stairs, and I emerged
into the court No man pursued me, and I
gained the open street It was only«n hour
after perhaps, ajs I croased Ilolboni towards
St Andruw'.s Church that I saw tire-engines
come rattling along ; and, asking uncon-
cernedly where the tire was, heanl that it was
"somewhcie oirciray's Inn Lane."
I islept nowhere that night I scarcely
remember what I did ; but I have an in-
distinct renicnibranco of flinging sovereigns
about in blazing gas-lit tavem.s. It is a
marvel to me now that I did not become
senseless with b'quor, unaccustomed as I
was to ilLssipatjon. The next morning I read
the following paragraph in a newspaper : —
'■ ' - u iD« AND Fire thur Gray's I.njj
L»^ .litthoiohabitimta of Crag's Court j
UuoL., ^ , 'Jray's Inn Lane, were ulurinod
bj voJumcH ol Bniok'e i^sain^ iVom the windown of
number flvu in that court, oeeiipipd oa a lodgiiif?
hou»e. On Mr. Pl'jse, tlio liiudlord, entering a
nirol OQ llic third tlopr, it wai) fouiicJ that iu t«aant
Mr. , huJ couii]iUt«d .luieidc liy blowiiijf hia
brnius out with a pistol, whicli was I'oand ti^'titlj
deiicliod in tbe wrv^chtd iniin's liund. Eillicr from
tliii itTuition ol' the woilJiug, or Irora soino other
canso the lire littJ coinmunicutcd to tlio bo<l-dotli«a ;
oil of w!rivti. witli tlio hH nn>l n portion of the
j'lirii ' '!' ri.-itiesof the North
(}( i. ijitly on thexpot;
an I jlty at lost mn^
ct* yoml I be room
occi i'irod. Tlicbody
■lull..-. ,;....,. >.u wcru friiflitfully
ttliitod ; but surticicnl eviilencti wrw (UFordcd
lli'a clot 'ii^ an. I pupcrBtocstaibiish hU identity.
1 for tho rash ucl; uiid it m
bad prolonged liia exi.ileiice
kw kon : would Imvo como into pog-
•tUMiioii ijfft (...rtinii; of thirty llioiiwmdpoimds, bin
miclu Urlpnle Colluror, Kiq.. of JtiwlAn Street,
CI' r'- ' '■■■•..■ died only two day* before.
Ui.\ ;:cd liiiii Ilia lolo bcir nuil
lcj_' and ifi'('!!i;.-eiit ptirUh otBoLT,
Mr. ' i tlio neceKrtary
inL' u inqiicat will bo
iiel ; ,^ V s Anus, lIusUo
Street. "
I ha<l lost all — name, existence, tliirly
thou.Kand pounds, everything — for about four
hundred pounds in gold and notes.
"So I sufipose," I said, as he who was
hanged paused, " that you gave yourself up
with a view of re-establishing your identity ;
and, failing to do that, you were banged for
murder or arson i"
I waited for a reply. He bad lit another
cigar, and sat smoking it Seeing that he was
calm, I judged it best not to excite or aggra-
vate him by further questioning, but stayed
his pleasure. I had not to wait long.
" Not so," he resiuned ; " what I became
that night I have renuiined ever since, and
am now : that is, if I am anything at
all. The very day on which that para-
graph appeared, I set off by tho coaclu
My only wish was to get as far from London
and from England as I possibly could ; and, in
due time, we came to Hull. Hearing that Ham-
burg was the nearest foreign port, to Hamburg
I went I lived there for six month.s in aa
hotel, frugally and in solitude, and endea-
vouring to learn Gennan ; for, on narrower
examination of the papers in the jiocket-
book, I guessed some portions of thcni to he
written in tluit language. I was a dull scho-
lar ; but, at the end of sis months, I had
.scraped together enoug^li (.lenuan to know
tlint the dead man's name w.hs Miiller ; that
ho had liccn in Ru.ssia, in France, and in
America. I managed to tran.slato ]>uri;<ms of
a diary he had kept while in thv.s latter
country ; but they only related to his iini)rc.s-
(iiniis of the town he had visited. He often
alluded too, casuall}-, to his ' secret' and his
' charge"; but what tliat secret and that
charge were, 1 could not di.soover. There
were al.so hints about a ' shepherdess,' an
'antelope,' and a 'blue tiger' — fictitious
names I presumed for some persons with
whom he was connected. The great muss
of the documents was in a cipher utterly
inexplicable to my most strenuous inge-
nuity and research. I went by the nams of
Miillcr; but I found that there were hun-
dreds more Miillersin Hamburg, and no man
souglit me out
1 was in the habit of going every evening
to a large bccrhouso out.side Uie town to .smoke
my pipe. There generally sat at the same table
with me a little fat man in a grey great-coat
who .smoked ami drank beer incessantly. I
was suspicious and shy of strangers; but, be-
tween this little man and me there gradually
grew up a (juict kind of tavern acquaint-
ance.
One evening, when we had had a rather
libend potation of pipes and beer, he n.sked
me if I had ever ta,stcd the Iknioiis Ilaerischo
or Bavarian beer, adding, that it threw all
other Gennan beers into the shade, and libe-
rally oitring to pay for a flask of it. I was
in rather merry humour, and as.senlcd. We
had one bottle of Bavarian beer; then ano-
ther, and another, till, what with the beer and
the pipes and the wTangling of tho domino
[>layers my head swam.
" I tell you what," said my companion,
"wo will just have one chopinc of brandy.
I always take it after Baerischer beer. We
will not have it here, but at the (rrune Gam
hard by ; which is an hone.st house, kept by
Jlax Romliach, who is a widow's son."
I was in that state when a man havin,^
I
i
33
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
ICnAKMbr
tUreadv hnd too much u sure to want more,
»nd 1 followed tho man in tho gri-'y
coot. How many chopincs of brandy I had
at tho Oriifif Oan» I know not ; but I
found myself in bed next morning with an
intolerable thirst and a racking headache.
My first action was to Bpring out of bed, and
search in the pocket of my coat for my pocket-
book. It was gone. Tlio waiters and the
landlord were summoned ; but no one knew
anything about it I had been brought
liomo in a carriage, rcry inebriated, by
a stout m-in in a grey great-coat, who
said ho wns my friend, helped, me upstairs,
and assisted mc to undress. The investigation
ended with a conviction that the man in
the grey coat wns the thief. lie had ma-
nifestly been tempted to the robbery by no
pecuniary motive ; for the whole of niy re-
maining stock of bank-notes, which I always
kept in the pocket-book, I found in my waist-
coat pocket neatly rolled up.
That evi-ning I walked down to the beer-
house where t usually met my friend — not
with the remotest idea of seeing him, but
with the hope of eliciting some inforioatioD
as to who and what he was.
To my surprise he was sitting at his accus-
tomed table, smoking and drinking as usual ;'
and, to my stem salutation, replied with a
good humoured h(ipc that my head was not
any the worse for the branntteein overnight
*' I want a word with you," said I.
" With pleasure," ho returned. Whereupon
he put on his broad-brimmed hnt and ri>l-
lowed me into the garden behind tlw house,
with an alacrity that was quite surprising.
" I was drunk last night," I commenced.
*' Zo" he replied, with an unmoved counte-
nance.
" And while drunk," I continued, " I was
robbfcd of my pocket-book."
" 2ii," he repeated, with equal composure.
" .\nd 1 venture to assert that you arc the
person who stole it"
" Zo. You are quite right, my son," he re-
turned, with the most astonisliing coolness.
" I did take your pocket-book ; I have it here.
Sec"
He tapped tho bre.nst of his grey great-
coat ; and, I could clearly distinguish, through
the cloth, the square form of my pocket-book
with its grcot clasp in tiie middle. I sprang
at him immediately, with the intention of
wrenching it from him ; but he eluded my
grasp nimbly, and, stepping aside, drew forth
a small silver whistle, on which he blew a
shrill note. In an instant a cloak or tihcet
was thrown over my head. I felt my hands
muffied with soft but strong ligatures ; and,
before I had time to make one ctFort in self-
defence, I was lifted off my feet and svriflly
conveyed away, in total darkness. Presently
we slopped, and I was lifted still higher; was
placed on a seat ; a. door was Hlammcd to ; and
the rumbling motion of wheels convinced me
that I waa in a carriage.
My journey must have lasted some hours.
We stopped from lime to time : to change
horses, I suppose. At the commencement of
the journey I made frantic efllbrts to disengage
myself, and to cry out But I was so well
gi^ggod, and bound, and niulticd, that in sheer
weariness and despair, I desiste(L We halted
at last for good I was liflcd out, and again
carried swiftly along for upwards of ten
minutes. Then, fi-om a difficulty of rcspirm-
tion, I concluded fliat I had entered a house^
and was perhaps being borne along some un-
derground passage. AVe ascendeti and de-
scended staircaacA I beard doors locked and
unlocked! FinaDy, I was thrown violently
down on a hvd surface. The gag was re-
moved from my mouth, and the mufflers from
my hands ; I hcat^ a heavy «inor clang to, and
I was at liberty to spenk and to move.
My first care was to disengage myself from
tho mantle, whose folds still clung around
mo. I was in total darkness — darkness so
black, that at first I conchwlcd some infernal
device hud been made use of to blind mo. But
after straining my eycsin every direction, I was
able to discern high above me a small circular
orifice, through which permeated a minute
thread of light Then I became sensible that
I was not blind, but in some subterranean
dungeon. The surface on which I was lymg
was hard and cold — a stone paTement. 1
crawled about, feeling with my band.s, tnde*-
vouring to deflne the limits of my jirison,
NoUiing was palpable to the touch,' Lut the
bare smooth pavement, and the bare .smooth
walls, I tried for tioura to find the door,
but could not I shouted for help ; but no
man came near mc.
I must have lain in this den two days and
two nights — at le.ist the pangs of hunger and
thirst made me suppose that length of time
to have elapsed Then the terri-blc thought
possessed mc that I was imprisoned there to
be starved to death. In the middle .of the
third day, as it seemed to mo, however, 1
heard a rattling of keys ; one grated in the
lock ; a door opened, a flood of light broke
in itpon mo; and a well-rcmembercd voice
cried " Come out!" as one might do to a
beast in a cage.
The light was so dazzling that I could not
at first distingviish anything. But I crawled
to tJ»e door ; and then standing up, found I
WHS in a sm.all courtyard, and thnt opposite
to me was my enemy, tlie man of the grey
coat
In A grey coat no longer, however. He
was dressed in a scarlet jarket, richly laced
with gold; which fitted him so tightly with
the short tails sticking out behind, that, under
any other circumstances, he would bare
seemed to me inconceivably ridiculous. He
tooknomore notice of me than if he had nerer
Been me before in his life ; but, merely mo-
tioning to two servants in scarlet liveries to
take hold of me under tho arms, waddled on
before.
J
A DEAD SECRET.
88
We went in and out or hair-.vdozen doors,
and trnvcrscd us m.inr small courtyards.
The buildings sum»iinillnff them were ati in
a handsotno stjie of architecture ; and in ono
of them I oouI(i Ui-%em, through the open
grated windows on the ground door, several
men in white cajis and jiirkel^ A distant
row of copper Stcwpans, and H deUcious
odour, made ttie conjecture tliat «*e were
close to the kitthcn. We stopped some
moments in this neighbourhood ; whctlier
from previous orders, or from pure nialig-
nity towards me, I wa^ unubic then to tcU.
He glanced over his shoulder with an expres-
sion of such intinite malice, that what with
hunger anil rage I atnjsrgled violently bnt
unsuccessfully to burst from my guards. At
last we ascended a narrow but h.indsomely
carpeted staircase ; and, aAcr Iraversiiig a
splendid picture gallery, entered an apart-
ment Ui.T:unously ftimished; half library and
half dr*\ving-room.
A cheerful wood fire crackled on the dogs
in the fireplace ; and, with his back towards
it, stood a t'lU elderly man, his thin grey hair
carefully brushed over his forohesid. He was
dresjied in black, had a stitT white neckcloth,
and a parti-cotoured ribbon at his buttonhole.
A few feet from him was a tabic, covered
with hooks and papers ; and ^tling thereat
in a larg« arm-chair, was an old man, im-
mensely corpulent, swathed in a richly furred
dressing-j;own, with a sort of jockey cap on
bis head of black velvet, to which was at-
tached a hideous green shade. The servants
brought inu to the foot of this table, still
holding my arm.s.
" Monsieur XI filler," said the man in black,
poliU'lv, and in excellent English. " How do
you feel ?"
I replied, indignantly, that the stale of ray
hcoltli wafi not the point in question. I
demanded to know why I had been trepanned,
robbed and starved.
"MoiLsicur Miiller," returned the man in
black, with immovable politeness. " You must
excuse the apparently discourteous m.innor
in which you have been treated. The truth
is. Our house was built, not for a prison, but
for a ptclace ; and, for want of proper dungeon
accomrondation, we were compelled to utilise
for the moment an apartment which I believe
was formerly a wine-cellar. I hope you did
not find it damp."
The man with the green shade shook his
fat Rhoiildcn;, as if in silent laughter.
" In the first instance. Monsieur," resumed
the other, politely motioning me to be silent ;
for I was about to speak, " we deemed that the
Sossession of the papers in your pocket-book"
la touched that fiital book as he spoke)
" would have been sufBcient for the accom-
plishment of the object we have in view. Bui,
finding that a portion of Uie correspondctioo
in in a cipher of which you alone have the
key, wo judged the pleasure of your company
■beolutcly indispensable."
" I know no more about the cipher and its
key than you do," I ejaculated, " anil, before
heaven, no secret that can concern yr u is in
my keeping."
" You must bo hungry. Monsieur Miiller,"
pursued tlic man in black, taking lo more
notice of what I had said than if I had not
spoken at all. " Carol, bring in hmch."
Ho, lately of the grey coat, now addres.scd as
Carol, bowed, retired, and presently returned
with a tray covered with smoking viands and
two flasks of wine. The servants half loosened
then- hold ; my heart leaped within me, and I
was about to rush towards the viands, when
the man in black raised his hand.
" One moment. Monsieur MiiUcr," ho said,
" before you recruit your strength. Will you
oblige me by answering one question, Where
is the child 'V
" Ja, where is the child?" echoed the man
in the green shade.
" I do not know," I replied passionately ;
" on my honour I do not know, If you wore to
ask me fora hundred years, I could not tell you."
"Carol," said the man in block, with an
unmoved countenance, " take away the tray.
Monsieur Midler has no appetite. Unless,"
he added turning to me, "you will bo so good
as to answer lliat little question."
" I cannot," I repeated ; " I don't know,
I never knew."
" Carol," said my questioner, taking up a
newspaper, and turning his back upon lue,
" take away the things. Monsieur Miiller,
good morning."
In spite of my cries and strug^lea I wag
dragged away. We traversed the picture
gallery ; but, instead of descending the stair-
case, entered another suite of apartments. Wo
were cro.ssing a long vestibule liKhtud with
lamps, and one of my guards had stopped to
unlock a door while the other Inyrged a few
paces behind, (they had loosened their hold of
mo, and Carol was not with us,) when a panel
in the wainscot opened, and a lady in black
— perhaps thirty j'card of age and beautiful —
bent forward through the aperture. " I heard
all," she said, in a rapid whisper " You have
acted nobly. Bo proof against their tempta-
tions, and Heaven will reward your devoted-
ncss."
I had no time to reply, for the door was
closed immediately. I was hurried forward
through room after room ; until at last wo
entered a small bed-chamber simply, but
cleanly furnished. Here I was left, and the
door was locked ami barred on the outside.
On the table were a small loaf of black bread,
and a pitcher of water. Both of these I con-
sumed ravenously.
I was left without fvirthcr food foranothci
entire day and night From my window,
which was heavily prated, I could see that
my room overlooked the court-yanl where
the kitchen was, and the sight of the cooks,
and the smell of the hot meat drove mo
almost mad.
I
I
6=
L
i
84
HOUSEHOLD WORDi
On the second day I wms agsun ushered
into the presence of the man in black, and
the man with the green shade. Again the
infvrna drama was played. Again I was
tempte I with rich food. Again, on my ex-
pressing my inability to answer the question,
it was ordered to be removed.
" Stop !" I cried desperately, as Carol was
about to remove the food, and thinking I
might satisfy them with a iklaehood ; " I will
confoss. I will tell alL"
" Speak,'' said the man in black, eagerly,
"wlure is the child?"
" In Amsterdam," I replied at random.
" .Vmsterdam — nonsense !" said the man
in the gn"cen shade impatiently, " what has
AtiistciSam to do with the Blue Tiger?"
" I need not remind you," said the man in
black, sarcastically, " that the name of any
town or country is no answer to the question.
You know as well as I do that the key to the
whereabouts of the child is tA«r«," and he
pointed to the pocket-book.
" Yes ; there" echoed the man in the green
shade. And he struck it
" But, sir — ^" I urged.
The answer was simply, " Good morning,
Montiiour Miiller."
Again was I conducted back to my prison ;
again I met the lady in black, who ad-
ministered to me the barren consolation th.at
" Htaven would reward my devotedness."
Aprain I found the black loaf and the pitcher
of water, and again I was left a day and a
night in semi-starvation, to be again brought
forth, tantalised, questioned, and sent back
again.
" Perhaps," remarked the man in black, at
the fifth of these interviews, " it is gold that
Monsieur Miiller requires. See." As he
spoke, he opened a bureau crammed with
baps of money, and bid me help myself.
in rain I protested that all the gold in
the world could not extort from me a secret
which I did not possess. In vain I exclaimed
that my name was not Miiller ; in vain I dis-
closed the ghastly deceit I had practised.
The man in black only shook his head, smiled
incredulously, and told me — while compli-
menting me for my powers of invention — ^that
my sLitement confirmed his conviction that I
knew where the child was.
AftiT the next interview, as I was retnm-
fng to my starvation meal of bread and water,
the bxly in black again met me.
" Take courage," she whispered. " Your
deli voranco is at hand. You are to be removed
to-night to a lunatic asylum."
How my translation to a mad-house could
accomplish my deliverance, or better my
prospects, did not appear very clear to me;
but that very night I was gagged, my arms
were confined in a strait waistcoat, and placed
in a carriage, which immediately set off at a
npid pace. We travelled all night ; and, in
the early moming arriTcd at a largo stooe
boildmg. Hero I waa itrippod, examined,
placed in a bath, and dressed in a suit of
coarse grey cloth. I asked where I was t I
was told in the Alienation Refuge of the
Grand Duchy of Sachs-Pfeigiger.
" Can I see the head-keeper?" I asked.
The Herr-ober-Direktor was a little maa
with a shiny bald head and very white teeth.
When I entered his cabinet he received me
politely and asked me what he could do for
me ? I told him my real name, my history,
my wrongs ; that I was a British subject, and
demanded my liberty. He smiled and simplj
called—" Where is Kraus?"
" Here, Heir," answered the keeper.
" What number is Monsieur ?"
" Number ninety-two."
"Ninety-two," repeated the Herr Direk-
tor, leisurely writing. " Cataplasms on the
soles of the feet Worsted blisters behind
the ears, a mustard plaster on the chest, and
ice on the head. Let it be Baltic ice."
The abominable inflictions thus ordered
were aU applied. The villain Kraus tortured
me in every imaginable way; and in the
midst of his tortures, would repeat, " Tell me
where the child is, Miiller, and you shall
have your liberty in half an hour."
I was in the madhouse for six months. If
I complained to the doctor of Kraus's ill-
treatment and temptations, he immediately
began to order cataplasms and Baltic ice.
The bruises I had to show were ascribed to
injuries I had myself inflicted in fits of frcnxy.
Tne maniacs with whom I was caged de-
clared, like all other maniacs, that I was out-
rageously mad.
One evening, as I lay groaning on my bed,
Kraus entered my cell " Get up," he said,
"you are at liberty. I was bribed, by you
know who, with ten thousand Prussian
thalers to get your secret from you, if I
could ; but I have been bribed with twcntf
thousand Austrian florins (which is really
a sum worth having) to set you fhHS. 1
shall lose my place, and have to fly; but
I will open an hotel at Frankfort for the
Englanders, and make my fortune. Come I"
He led me down stairs, let mo out of a
private door in the garden; and, placing a
bundle of clothes and a purse in my hand,
bade me good night
I dressed myself^ threw away the mad-
man's livery, and kept walking along until
morning, when I came to the custom-house
barrier of another Grand Duchy. I had
a pa.ssport ready provided for me in the
pocket of my coat, which was found to be
perfectly en regie, and I passc<l unquestioned.
I went that morning to the coach-office of the
town, and engaged a pl.nce in the Eilwagen
to some German town, the name of which I
forget; and at the end of four days' weary
travelling, I reached Brus.'tcls.
I was very thin and weak with confinement
and privation ; but I soon recovered my health
and strength. I must say that I made ap
by good living for my former compulsory
■Kstinrnce ; and both in Brussels and in Paris,
to whioh 1 next directed my steps, I lived on
the bfpt. One evening I entered one of the
magnificent rcstaumnts in the Palais Royal
to dine. I had ordered my ineal from the
eor(<; when my attention was roused by a
gmall piece of paper which had been (dipped
between its leavM. It ran thus :—
" Fcicrn to «it, bnt eat no fl«h. B«maia the usail
tiiiH rin MaMpicioii, batimnift-
di.i :i' nay to Kugliuii.1. Bo
euTL, ... ^.— -„ : „ -- l-JutloQ, to ciill on HUde-
buiger.'
I had ordered a tole au gratin ; but when it
arrived, managed to throw it piece by piece
under the tabb.'. When I had diseased tlie
rest of my <iii)ncr, I summoned the gnr^on,
and asked for tny bill
" Yon will pay t)ic head waiter if you please,
Monsieur," said he.
The head WHiter came. If lie had been a
centaur or a sphynx I could not have stared
at him with more horror and a.stonish-
mcnt than I did ; for there, in a waiter's
dress, with a napkin over hia arm, was Carol,
the man of the grey coat
" Midler," he said, coolly, bending over the
table. " Your sole wa.^ poiiioned. Tell me
where the child is, and here is im antidote,
and four hundred thousand frane.«."
For reply I seizc<l the heavy water de-
canter, and da.'ihed it with all the force I
could command, full in the old rutfian's face.
He fell tike a »tone, amid the ecreams of
women, the oaths of men, and cries of A Ui
Oanle! n hi Garde! 1 slipped out of the
restaurant and into one of the passages of
outlets which abound in the Palais Royal
Whether the man died or not, or whether I
waa pursued, I never knew, I pained my
lo<lgings unmolested, packed up my luggage,
and started the nest morning by the diligence,
for Boulogne.
I arrived in due time in London ; but I did
not call on " Hildeburger" because I did
not know who or where Hildeburger wiis.
I started the very evening of my arrival in
London for Liverpool, being determined to
go to America. I was fearful of remaining
in England, not only on ac<;ount of my
pcrsucutora, but because I was pursued
everywhere by the spectre of the real
MiiUer.
I took my passage to New York in a
Btcamcr whidi was to sail from the Docks in
a week's time. It was to .start on a Monday ;
and on the Friday preceding I was walking
about the Exchange, congratulating myself
that I should soon have the Atlantic between
raysi'lf and my pursuers. All at once I heard
the name of JI idler pronounced in a loud tone
close behind me, I turned, and met the gaze
of a tall thin young man with a downy
moustache, who was dressed in the extreme
of fashion, and was sucking the end of an
ebony alick.
" Monsieur Miiller," ho said, nodding to mo
easily.
" My name is not Miiller," I answered,
boldly.
" You have not yet called on Hildeburger,"
he abided, slightly elevating his eyebrows at
my denial.
r felt a cold shiver pass over me, and
stammerefl, "N — n — no!
" We had considerable difficulty in learning
your whereabouts?" he went on with great
composure. " The lady was obstinate. The
screw and the water were trietl in vain ; but
at length, by a judicious use of the cord and
pullies, we succeeded."
I shuddered again.
" Will you call on Hildeburger now t" ho
resumed quickly and .sharply. "He is hero
— close by."
" Not now, not now," I faltered. " Some
other time."
" The day after to-morrow ?"
'" Yes, yes," I answered eagerly, "the day
after to-morrow."
"Well, Saturday be it You will meet me
here, at four in the afternoon ! Good ! Do
not forget Ju rcroir, .Monsieur Miiller."
lie had no sooner uttered the.so words than
he turned and disappeared among the crowd
of merchants on 'Change,
I could not doubt, by his naming Saturday,
as the dav for our meeting, that he had some
inkling ot my intended departure. Although
1 had paid my passage to New York, I
dutcmiined to forfeit it, and to change my
course so n.s to evade my persecutors. I
entered a shipping-ofRec, and learnt that
a good steamer would leave (Jeorge's Dock
at ten that same night for Glasgow. And
to ( rla.sgovv for the present I made up mj
mind to go.
At a quarter before ten I was at tho doi-.v
with my iugpige. It was raining heavily, and
there was a den.>ie fo;;.
" This way for the Glasgow steamer — this
way," cried a man in a Guernsey shirt, " this
way, )-our honour. I'll carry your trunk."
He took my trunk as he 8])oke, and led
the way down r» ladder, arroiw tho decks of
two or three steamers, and to tho gangway of
a Iburth, where a man stood with dark bushy
whiskers, dressed in a pea-coat, and holding a
lighted lantern.
" Is this the Glasgow steamer?" I asked,
" .\ll right 1" answered the man with the lan-
tern, " Look sharp, the bell's a-going to ring,"
" Reniember poor Jack, your honour," a&id
the man in the Guornsej', who had carried my
trunk. I gave him si,\pence and stepped on
board. A bell began to ring, and there was
great confusion on board with hauling of
ropes and s-to%ving of luggage, Tlie steamer
Ecemcd to me to be intolerably dirty and
crowded with goods ; and, to avoid the crush,
I stepperl aft to the wheel. In due time we
had worked out of the dock and were steam-
ing down the Memey.
A
L
86
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[Owd» m «ly
" How long will the run to Glasgow take,
think you, my man?" I asked of the man at
the wheel. He stared at me as if he did
not understand me, and muttered some unin-
telligible words. I repeated the question.
" He does not speak English," stud a voice
at my elbow, "nor can any soul on board
this vessel, except you and I, Monsieur
MiiUer."
I turned round, and saw to my horror the
young man with the ebony cane and the
downy moustache.
"I am kidnapped!" I cried. "Let me
have a boat Where is the captain!"
" Here is the captain," said the young man,
as a fiercely bearded man came up the com-
panion-ladder. " Captain Uiloschvich of the
Imperial Russian ship Pyroscaphe, bound to
St. Petersburg, M. Miillor. As Captain
Miloschvich speaks no English you will
permit mo to act as interpreter."
Although I feared fix>m his very presence
that my case was already hopeless, I en-
treated him to explain to the captain that
there was a mistake ; that I was bound for
Glasgow, and that I desired to be set on
shore directly.
"Captain Miloschvich," said the young
man, when he had translated my speech, and
received the captain's answer, " begs you to
understand that there is no mistake ; that you
arc not bound for Glasgow, but for SL Peters-
burg; and that it is quite impossible for
him to set you on shore here, seeing that he
has positive instructions to set you on shore
in Cronstadt Furthermore, he feels it his
duty to add that should you, by any words
or actions, attempt to annoy or disturb the
crew or passengers, he will be compelled to
put you in irons, and place you in the bottom
of the hold."
The captain frequently nodded during
these remarks, as if he perfectly under-
stood their purport, although unable to
express them; and, to intimiate his entire
coincidence, he touched his wrists and
ancles.
If I had not been a fool I should have
resigned myself to my fete. But I was so
maddened with misfortune, that I sprang on
the young man, hoping to kill him, or to be
killed myself and to bo thrown into the sea.
But I was chained, beaten, and thrown into
the hold. There, among tarred ropes, the
stench of tallow-casks, and the most appalling
sea-sickness, I lay for days, fed with mouldy
biscuit and putrid water. At length we
arrived at Cronstadt
All I can tell you, or I know of Russia is,
that somewhere in it there is a river, and on
that river a fortress, and in that fortress a
cell, and in that cell a knout Seven years of
my existence were passed in that cell, under
the lashes of that knout, with the one horrible
question dinning in my ears, " Where is the
cbild ?
How I escaped to incur worse tortures it
is bootless to tell you. I have swept the
streets of Palermo as a convict, in a hideous
yellow dress. I have pined in the inquisition
at Rome. I have been caged in the madhouse
at Constantinople, with the rabble to throw
stones and mud at me throngh the bars. I
have been branded in the back in the hagna
of Toulon and Rochfort ; and everywhere I
have been offered liberty and gold, if I would
answer the question, "Where is the child?"
At last^ having been accused of a crime I
did not commit, I was condemned to death.
Upon the scaffold they asked me " Where is
the child?" Of course there could be no
answer, and I was— —
Just then, Margeiy, my servant, who nevc .
will have the discrimination to deny roe to
importunate visitors, knocked" at the ooor,
and told me that I was wanted in the surgery.
I went down stairs, and found Mrs. Walking
shaw, Johnny Wallun^haw'a wife, who twd
me that her "master" was "took all over
like," and quite "stroaken of a heap."
Johnny Walkingshaw is a member of tiie
ancient order of Sylvan Brothers ; and, as I
am club doctor to the Sylvan Brothers, he
has a right to my medical attendance for the
sum of four shillings a year. Whenever he
has taken an overdose of rough cyder he is
apt to be " stroaken all of a heap" and to
send for me. I was the more annoyed at
being obliged to walk to Johnny Walking-
shaw's cottage at two in the morning, be-
cause the wretehed man had been cut short
in his story just as he was about to explidn
the curious surgical problem of how he was
resuscitated. When I returned he was gone,
and I never saw him more. Whether he
was mad and had hanged himself^ or whether
he was sane and had been hanged according
to law, or whether he had ever been hanged
or never been hanged, are points I have never
quite adjusted in my mind.
PICTURES IN THE FIRE.
What is it yoa uk me, darling!
All my Btorica, child, yon know;
I have no strange dreams to tell you,
Pictores I have none to show.
Tell yon glorions scenes of travel f
Nay, my child, that cannot be,
I have seen no foreign ooantries,
Marvels none on land or sea.
Tet strange sights In truth I witnesa.
And I gaze nntil I tire ;
Wondrous pictures, changing ever,
As I look into the fire.
There, last night, I saw a cavern.
Black as pitch : within it lay
Coiled in many folds a dragon,
Qlaring as if tnn'd at bay.
And a knight in dismal armour
On a wingid eagle came.
To do battle with this dragon ;
Hi* towering oreat was all or flamtt.
x'HE STEREOSCOPE.
^
Ah I n>zo<l the dragon faded,
Ana, iiiBteiki, saC PIqm crovrncd.
By u Ukc of biiniing fire:
Spirits iark were croaoUing round.
That WM Roae, and lo 1 before me,
A cathedral vast and grim ;
I could almost h«iir tlie organ
Boll aloD^ tlie arches dim.
it I watched the wreathed pUlars,
A lliick grovo of palms arose,
And a group of awanby Indiana
Gtealing on some sleeping foes.
Star; a cataract glnnoing brizhtl}^,
iJnshed and BparkJe^i ; and beside
Iat a broken marble monster,
ilonth and eyes were starinjg wide.
Vfeen I law a maiden wreathing
StaiTT ftowers in garknds sweet ;
Did she sea the fiery aerpent
That was wrapped about her feel f
"Stat fell crashiog all and vanished ;
And I saw two onoies close —
'' could almost hour the cUirions
And the shouting of the foes.
They were gone ; and lo ! bright angels,
On a barren mooutoLn wild,
Bjdted appealing arms to Heaven,
Bearing op a Uttlo child.
And I gaMd, and gazed, and slowly
Gathered in niy eyos Had tears,
And the fiery picturoa bore mo
Back through diatont dreams of years.
OuoB again I tasted sorrow,
7 ith past joy was onco more gay,
"nn the shade nad gatlicrod round ma
Aai i£t fire had died away.
THE STEREOSCOPE.
Tebsi is a good deal of romance to bo
found even in the details of pure M^ivncc, and
t book of wonders could very well be made
out of what might be called the social Uiwtory
of optical diacoTcrics. Much of it would be
co-«KlcnsiTC with a history of the black arts
— dark sdenceB that often get their darkness
out of light.
Evety one has been told that the old
priests of Egypt and of Greece were better
Bklllcd in optics than in necromancy, that
many an awful ghost, riding upon a cloud,
was the result of hocussing and focussing.
Any commentator is entitled to suppose
that an old form of incantation (said to
have had a more sacred origin) has be-
come sliRhUy corrupted by the exchange of
conrertiblc letters in the lapse of time, and
was in the first instance, really hocus, focus.
Let him take up a pscudoscope, and look
through it, properly focusscd. Let him look
it fome man on the other side of the way.
He will not appear to bo on thq other side at
■U, the street will hare oon:>e m doors, and
the house will be turned out of wiadow. I*v
him look at a friend's lace. The checks will
so decidedly fall in, that the face will become
no bee but a hollow mould. Let him look
into the bottom of a teacup. For a minuto
he may see it as it is ; but — 0, hocus, focus-
in the twinkling of an eye, it has turned in-
side out. It has no hollow, but is all solid.
Let him look at a framed picture hung
against the wall, It will seem to be, not
hung against the wall, but to he let into ii
The frame will appear to Mirround it like a
mo&t There is a pretty instrnment for turn-
ing everything hindside foremost! If it
were possible lo take a bird's-eye view of the
whole world through a pseudoscopc, and get
It all at one time into focus, every mountain
would appear to be a valley, every valley
would exalt itself into a mountain. Such
abasement of the lofty, and such exaltation
of the lowly, such bringing forward of the
backward, and putting backward of the for-
ward, is effected by two simple prisms of
gloss — properly focussed.
Again, a couple of flat daguerreotype pic-
tures of any scene are put into a little box.
When they arc looked at in a couple of re-
flectors properly arranged, the scene itself
seems to be visible in bold relief. So, for
example, we may perchance look in upon the
river Volga flowing between its banks, and
inspect the piles and works of a great un-
&'U£hed bridge, forming a track partly across
the tide from t>ank to bank, every post as
round and real as though tlie river and its
banks and the great work there in progress
had been modelled by the fairies. Qocthe
tells a story of a fairy who w.is earned about
by a mortal in a small box, through the
chinks of which there could be seen her
sumptuous pttl.ice. Here is a box of about
the same Bi7A', coniiining any fairy -scene that
by the help of photography »•« rrtj bo dis-
posed to conjure iiji. It id calJfti the Stereo-
scope. And of what use is its magic? To
go no fartlier than the particular picture just
suggested, of very grc.it use. The Emperor
of all the Russias is in a great hurry for the
completion of the bridge therein represented.
He used to make frequent long expeditions
to the works, and if he remained long absent,
the architect never seemed to him to be suf-
ficientty industrious. The architect now
saves all trou!)]c to his imperial master, and
maintains his own credit, by having a, couple
of true and undeniable copies of the works
taken onco a fortnight by the sun, and sent to
SL Petersbui^. There they arc put into a
stereoscope, with which the emperor may sit
in his own room, and in which he m.iy count
every dam and post, see every ripple of the
distant tide.
The pseudoscope is of the same parentage
as the stereoscope. In speaking of photo-
graphy we said about the stereoseope, that it
was invented some years since by Professor
Wbeatstone to illustrate his discoverif of tha
I
I
I
I
I
88
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
|<Oc.<«to. ^
J
principlea of binocular vision. As we are
now, however, treating spocifleally of the
stereoscope and not incidentally, we shall go
into a litUo more detail, as to the history of
the instrument
Although Professor 'VVhcatstone's disco-
very was alluded to in Herbert Mayo's Out-
linos of Physiology in the year eighteen
hundred and thirty-three, it was not until
the twenty-first of June eighteen hundred
and thirty-eight that Professor Wheat-
stone detailed the true theory of binocular
vision, together with a description and dia-
gram of h'« illusti-ntive apparatus, which ho
there first called the Stei-eoscope, (after two
Greek words meaning "solids — I see") before
the Royal Society, in a paper ; for which, in
eighteen hundred and forty, he was awarded
the Royal Medal. The stereoscope was after-
wards produced and explained by Mr.
Whcatstone at the Now^castle meeting of the
British Association in September, eighteen
hundred and thirty-eight The form of in-
strument then exhibited remains to this day
tlio most efficient that has been constructed,
t is the most beautiful, because it is the sim-
ikst; it is the most useful, because it can
>e ;ipplictl to the inspecUon of all drawings
ii.iile upon the stereoscopic principle, what-
!vor may bo their size, and it is capable of
'VI TV kind of adjustment A very little ex-
,1 ( isi- of ingenuity has sufficed to make it also
not less portable than any other, for it is made
on the lazy-tonga principle, and can be opened
ami packed like scissors. Of this instrument,
when first shown to the British Association,
one literary journalist, expressing the opinion
of the time, now perfectly confirmed, said that
it rendered the phenomena of double vision,
about which volume upon volume have been
written, clear to the comprehension of child-
hood ; and by a contrivance so simple, that,
when once seen, any person can construct a
copy in an hour. The importance of the
discovery was recognised at once on all
sides.
In a report of that meeting of the Asso-
ciation, published in the same year, it is
recorded, that "Sir David Brewster was
afraid that the members could scarcely Judge,
fh>m the very brief and modest account
given of this principle, and the instrument
devised for illustrating it, of its extrelne
beauty and generality. He considered it one
of the most valuable optical papen which
had been presented to the section." Sir
John Jlerschcl, on the same occasion, justly
characterised the discovery as "one of the
most curious and bcautifVil for its simpli-
city in the entire range of experimental
optics."
At that time photography was an unheard-
of science, and there could be used in the
stereoscope only drawings made by the hand
of an artist Geometric figures, and a few
qmple sketches, could be made; but the eye
f the best artist was not accurate enough
to catch the delicate distinctions of outline,
light and shade existing in the same land-
scape or figure, as it would appear seen from
two points at a distance of only two and a half
inches from each other. At the beginning of the
year eighteen hundred and thirty-nine, pho-
tography became known, and Mr. Wheat-
stone, not slow to perceive that the sun would
supply his stereoscope with pictures of the
necessary accuracy, soon obtained from Mr.
Talbot stereoscopic Talbotypes of statues,
buildings, and even living persons. The first
Daguerreotypes were produced for Mr
Wheatstone by M. Fizcau and M. Claudct
The application of the stereoscope to photo
graphy having been communicated by llr
Wheatstone to M. Quetclet, specimens bemg
at the same time aant, was made public in the
bulletins of the Brussels Academy for October,
eighteen hundred and forty-one. . Eight Vr
nine years afterwards, Sir David Brewster
helped to popularise the idea by pronapting
M. Dubosq SoIeil(a8 we have elsewhere said) to
the construction of a number of stereoscope»t,
in which, by the use of a couple of semi-lcnscb
with their edges directed towards each other,
a fbrm of instrument was obtained very co&
venient for the Daguerreotypist, who deals
rarely in large pictures. . This instrument is
a slight modification of the second form of
stereoscope — the refracting — suggested by
the original discoverer. The old reflecting in-
strument, the first form, remains, however,
for all purposes of experiment and study, as
well as for many purposes of common use, by
f^ the best
Before we proceed to an account of the
steps which led up to the discovery of the
stereoscope, and of some facts in nature
which it proves and illustrates, we should
say two or three wonls about the method
of investigation also illustrated by it Mr.
Wheatstone is Professor of Experimental Phi-
losophy in King's College, London, and one
of the most successful of the experimental
philosophers of our own time. Down in the
vaults of King's College we remember seeing,
years ago, a great array of wires which we
were told belonged to an experiment of Mr.
Whcatstone's then in hand. Those wires
were the unborn electric telegraph, which
came into life out of the experiments of Mr.
Wheatstone on electrical velocity. The dis-
covery of the stereoscope furnishes an inte-
resting illustration of the method by which
the chief operations of experimental philoso-
phy are conducted. The surest way to get
a secret out of nature — ^if one is clever enough
to do it — is to overreach her : to entrap her
into a confession by compelling her to work
under unheard of conditions. She cannot
go to work on fresh material of your own
choosing without betraying some part of her
mode of setting about business. If all the
information that you want is not to be bad
by playing the mysterious mother one trick,
t^ her Tith another and another. I%e
THE STI
secrets of double Tision, which could nerer
hive boon citVicr thought out or discovered
bj ft mere watching of nature at hur dftilv
work, have been wormotl out of her by sucL
tricks or such experiment'!.
Placi: any fm-gular or anffiilar solid boiiy
on tho inhla before you. Close each eye in
turn, while you observe tlie ol>jcft accurat4fly
with the other. You will not fail to observo
thiit A .«ilight — but very sen.«ibte — thtrerence
exists between the results of the two aights
taken from two points in the SAtno hcnd at
the some object The points of sight in the
two eyes are of course different, and by
the laws of perspective it is ea*y to de-
termine that the views of the same thing
taken from those two points could not be
identical. That is very obvious and very
nmplc. Yet that simple observation i.s the
whole basis of the theory of the stereo-
BCOpo, and it had not been made or rather
when made had been always set aside as iin-
niaterial, before Professor Whealstone built
Upon it one of the most bcautiftil little disco-
veries that gfrace the science of our day.
There is a reason, thought Mr. WheatMone,
for this dilference. It had been coininunly
Buppo«e(l that single vision with two eyes only
resulted from the falling of tbu same point of
the picture fonued by an object on the same
point in each eye. But that is what can take
placA.- only in the case of a painted landscape.
If we look at a Claude or a Canalctto the
eyes both sec the same picture, and both ece
it in precisely the Batoo way, but the result
is that they see it as a flat painting on can-
vas, and are so convinced of its flatnt-.ss, that
the be.st skill in shadow and pentpective will
not cause the houses to louk really solid,
the hills really to appear as lumps arising
on a broo<l Hat earth. The best picture will
not, as an illusion, stand the test of two
eyes. But if wo look at it with one eye,
the painter can cheat that. If one eye be
not allowed to compare notes with its tieigh-
hour, and to see the objects which profess to
he one behind another from a second point of
view, then accurate lights and shadows in a
picture, corresponding to the real light in the
room, will be assamed «a evidence of actual
solidity. In a landscape that consii>ted of
real fields an<l trees, or in a real street, one
eye could have obtained not much more
evidence than that, and the luind, satisfied to
get the utmost evidence attainable, would
upon that have founded a conclusion. P'or
thi.s reason, connoisseurs may be seen oltcn
shutting one eye when they examine a
painting. If use be made of a Itollow tMbu,
or a roll of paper, which is the same thing, in
such a way that the frame, and all Rurrnunil-
ing objects of comparison arc caiel'utly ex-
cluded, the clu'iit perpetrated upon one eye
by a really good picture is very complete
indeed.
Leonardo da Vinci coileed this method of
examining h picture with one eye, and is tho
Jm
only person who before our times liad rea-
soned on the matter. Fie pointed out, that
if you look at a solid globe with one eye
it conceals a certain jiieco o(* background,
which to the other eye is visible ; and if you
change the eye you change the background,
so that, a,s he said, except a certain part
behind the globe invisible to both eves, tiie
solid body is iii a certain sense transparent
He thought that the iinp08sil>ility of cheating
two eyes with a pictiu-e lay in the impossi-
bility of getting at this state of alfairs in the
background. Mr. \\'heatstone observes justly,
tliat had the philosophic painter taken any
other solid than a ball on which to found
his illustration, be would have observed not
only the difference in the backgrouml, but
also the difference between the two perspec-
tives. But he did not llr. Vv'lieatstone,
therefore, was tho first who called distinct
attention to this very obvious, but, ncvcrtho-
le.ss, practically new fact in the theory of
vision.
Then the experimenter said to liimself;
The old theory which supposed an identity
between tho pictures painted at the same
time on the two eyes being fdse, there
must be something more in the disparity
than a mere necessary awkwardness result-
ing from tlie impossibility of having two
eyes in one place. If the possession of two
eyes only caused a confusion to be got over
by habit, we two-eyed poojilc should bo all
really worse olf than Polyphemus. Why
have we two eyes ? That was tlje qiicstioD
which Mr. AVheatstono entrapped Nature
into answering. The trap act by bim was the
stereoscope.
One could not easily imagine any apparatua
simpler in its construction. Since it whs not
possible twenty years ago, by aid of photo-
graphy, to obtain on paper or silver two
sketches of the same scene, having only the
minute din'erence hi tlic point of view that
would exist between the two points of sight
furnished to man by Nature — which are
about two-and-a-liidf inches distant from
cich other in an ordiniiry adult lieafl — Mr.
Wheatstouc took the simple forms of cubca
and other solid matheiuatical figures, placing
tliein before him, and carefully making two
sketches of each, corresponding to tho two
appearances presented by it to the two eyes.
They were obvious and easy of dejiiclion.
They were made simply in outline, and in
each case, of course, were evidently Bat
copies. Let us tike the example of the cube,
The.so, tho experimental philosopher then
reasoned, are the images of tho cube scpa-
ralely presented to each e)-c ; flat outlines
ovidfntly. Let me contrive now to look at
thetn in such a way that the right eye shall
sec only its own proper picture a.s I have
drawn it from its own proper point of viow,
and the left eye the other j)iclure, and that
they .shall fall as they do in nature witli their
respective dificrcQces upon corresponding
M
HOtrSBHOLD WORDS.
[CoBdMiaatJ
parts of the two eyes. What will be the
result f
The instrument was soon made. Two bits
of looking-glam placed back to back were
arranged in the form of a broad letter V,
their angle a right angle and their mirrors
looking outwards. On two little walls placed
at equal distances beyond the mirrors, the
two j/ictures of the cube were hung and care-
fully adjusted so that the two images should be
reflected in precisely the right way. Then an
observer, placing his nose at the point of the V,
and looking with one eye into oneTnirror, and
with the other eye into the other mirror
would, of course, see with each eye its own
distinct view of the cube, as it had been
sketched. What, then, was the result? Not a
conflision of two sketches, but a complete re-
producticr. of the cube itself in all its whole-
ness of length, breadth, and depth. The illusion
was perfect The instrument so constructed,
and here rudely described, was a reflecting
stereoscope ; and, by its use, Mr. Wheatstone
w^as able to demonstrate so simply that *all
could understand, and no man could dispute
the fact, that the use of two eyes is to obtain
two pictures from different points of view,
and that the use of the diCTerences that exist
in the two images of every solid object so
seen is to assure to the mind the idea of
depth or distance.
Irfr. Wheatstone reflected in his mirrors a
pau- of real cubes. When they were so
placed that they threw upon the eyes in the
due way two pictures so differing, that they
represented the two aspects of a single cube as
seen by the two eyes, there was a single
cube seen in relief: when they were so ad-
justed that each eye received a precisely
similar impresaon, though two solid forms
were looked at, the mind believed that it saw
only the flat picture of a cube. I need not
multiply such illustrations of a fact already
placed beyond dispute.
A great many experiments could be made
with the reflecting stereoscope by a philo-
sopher gifted with Professor Wheatstone's
ingenuity; a great many experiments were
really made, and more secrets were in fact
discovered.
Of course the nearer any obiect is to
the two eyes, the greater is ftie discre-
pancy between the pictures of it seen by
them, and the more vivid the notion of relief.
Of distant objects the views taken by both
eyes are almost identical, and we judge of the
reality of the whole distant scene as the one-
eyed man judges of all things visible. Wo
judge by experience and comparison, by the
effects of light and shade, and by conclu.sions
drawn from the movements of the head,
which enable us to note how the view
changes as we change the point of observation.
In looking with a single eye through a micro-
scope at crystals or other object^ every ob-
server knows how difiScult it is to avoid
ir<<'conception as to which parts of an object
are nearer to the eye, which are more distant
from it.
Since the same object, say a jug of punch,
throws a larger image on the eye in pro*
portion to its nearness, and since there are
few positions in which it is not nearer to one
eye than to the other, the two images seen at
one time by the two eyes can rarely be quite
alike in size, and so there occurs another
interference with the identity of the two
pictures Having reflected upon this matter,
Mr. Wheatstone drew two circles differing
somewhat in their size, and presented by
means of his stereoscope one to each eye.
He did not see two circles. Though different
they coincided, and presented the impression
of a circle intermediate in size between the
two. Beyond certain limits ; that is to say,
beyond the utmost difference of this kind that
can occur in any case of vision with two eyes
— ^when each eye squints outwards ; no such
coincidence can take place in the stereoscope
between two outlines of unequal magnituw.
The mind, however, never does more than its
assigned work in the way of fusion. Whoever
wears a pair of spectacles with one glass
blue and the other yellow, will not see sur>
rounding objects coloured green. The diffe-
rent impressions made upon his two eyes wOl
not in that case mingle, but — sometimes one
predominating, and sometimes the other —
he will see things always tinged either with
blue or yellow, sometimes with one colour
and sometimes with the other, but always
with only one of the two colours at one time.
One of the oddest and most instructive
results of experiment with the reflecting
stereoscope, detailed by Mr. Wheatstone — one
which creates artificially a complete chaos of
the laws of vision — we must endeavour in the
next place to explain. In order to do so, we
must make use of and first understand a
technical expression— optic axes. What are
optic axes? Place upon the table before you
one small stone, and look at it with both
your eyes. The line drawn from the stone
at which you are looking through the centre
of one eye-ball is one optic axis, and the
line from the same point, through the other
eye-ball, is the other axis. On the stone,
when you look at it, the lines of course con-
verge. Look at the stone from a consider-
able distance, and the two lines or axes ran
for a long way side by side ; look at it from
a distance of three inches, and the lines con*
verge very rapidly; in other words, they
form, when they meet on the stone, in Hm
first case a smau angle, and in the last case a
large one. Very well. Now, as you come
nearer to the stone in walking from a comer
of the room towards the table, the optic axes
converge upon it gradually more and more^
at the same time that the image of the stone
enlarges on the retina. It is a familiar ex-
perience that things in motion become larger
on the eye as they approach us, smaller as
they recede. At the same time, while they
OariM tK<kn>.]
THE STEREOSCOPE.
41
t
approach the optic axes converge more to-
wards thi'in, and again the sjiiil a^es become
more nearly parallel as they are departing.
Now it waa no hanl matter for Professor
Wlieatstone so to adjust pairs of pictures on
the moveable walls of Lis reflecting stereo-
scope as that all ordinary experience should
iu this matter be contradicted.
In the first place, he arranged the etorco-
Ecopic pair on arms moveable only in a circle,
so that the images in the two mirrors should
always be of the same size^ hi-ing formed by
pictures always at a like distance from the
mirrors, but that the eyes should be obliged
ID foUowing the movements of the pictures to
vary the degree of convergence of the optic
axes. Ho found that as the convergence of
the optic axes lessened ^suggesting distance)
the perceived size of the unage grew upon the
mind, and it seemed to become smaller as the
convergence was increasei The real size of
the imago was, as wo have said, unaltered In
nature, as the convergence of the axes Icssen.s,
the size of the image les.sens, but its per-
ceived magnitude rcmain.s the same ; because
the mind, at all ren.sonable distances, insen-
»bly, through habit and txperieiicc, forms a
pretty equal and just conception of the size
of objectsi,
The experiment, just cited, wa,? then re-
versed. By simply sliding the two pictures
nearer to tLc mirrors, the size of the imago
thrown U|ion each eye was enlarged, but the
position of the images upon the mirrors not
being .shifted, in observing them the inclina-
tion of the optic axes was not altered. The
alterations in size were perceived accurately,
and while the pictures were moved to and
fro, the image, enlarging and diminishing,
cheated the mind in a fresh manner ; it ap-
peared in the most evident way to be moving
backwards an<l forwards. And yet observe
the curiou.s distinction, whenever it stood
still, and whatever might bo then its i»er-
ceived str.e, there wits no apparent change in
its position, it never seemed to have moved
at all. It always appeared, when motioalcsi^,
to be at one and the same distance from the
eye, because the chief measure of distance —
the amoont of convergence of the optic axes
— never altered.
A similar delusion wa? elicited in the com-
panion orperiment, wherein though the real
size of the image never aftered, the degree of
convergence of the axes being made constantly
to vary, caused it apparently to increase and
decrease. In that case, while the picture
grew or dwindled, as we know by experience
that it would increase upon the eye or
dwindle if advancing or receding, yet, for all
that it never seemed to move. It stood stilJ
enlarging like the dog that grew into a hip-
popotamus before the eyes of Dr. Faustu.s,
Xevertlieless, whenever the trial ceased,
whatever change has* been mado in the
posiKon of the stereoscopic plates was
represented to the eye as a difference of dis-
tance ; the image had got, apparently, into a
new place, because the inclination of the axes
cca.sed to bo_ the same. Thus, we may be
told to look at an object in this magic instru-
ment advancing and receding without chang-
ing place, and changing place without hving
observed to move. A state of things utterly
contradictory and confusing, scarcely or not
at all conceivatile, because it never has been
in the experience of any man from Adam
downwards, until Mr. Whcatst^ne Icnrned to
detect and re-combine and make experiments
upon the tiret principles of vision in his new
instrument, the stencoscopc.
Enough has been said to show the great
value and importance of the stereoscope to a
philo.sophical investigator of the laws of sight,
When we before spoke of this instrument we
saiil that, apart from its philosophical use, it
was employed only as a toy. It i.'* to bo
purchased now — in its less perfect forma — ■
in all tciy-shops ; and the use to which it is
[Hit commonly by the photogmpher, though
agreeable, is unimportant The stereoscope
itself, however, is not only of philosophical
importance, it admits of many really valuable
practical applications. Wo need refer only
to what has been already said of the difficulty
experienced by the microscopist in determia-
ing with one eye whether crystals and other
objects seen by him ore hollow or Kolid, If
a sovereign be looked at through a microscope,
the Queen's head upon it will as often appear
to be sunk into the coin as to sUind out in
relief from it. Now, however, when photo-
graphic copies can be taken of objects seen in
the field of the microscope, it will suffice to
take two copies of the same object, with the
duo angle of difference between their points
of view, and place them in a stereoscope.
The power of two eyes will bo then brought
to bear upon the o'yect seen with one eye
only through the glasses of the microscope,
and a correct impre.s-iiou will be formed o*'
its relative dimen.sions.
Having explained their principle, wo do not
think it worth while to discu.ss the construc-
tion of the ditfercnt forms of stereoscope now
in use. In the refracting instrument, in-
vented afterwards by Mr. AVhcatstono, as
convenient for the examination of small
pictures, prisms are used to deflect the
rays of light proceeding from the pictures ;
refracted are there substituted for reflected
images.
Of this instrument the small portable
stereoscope in common use is a modification
suggested by Sir David Brewster. Its pair
of pristns are the two halves of a common
Icn.'j. An ordinary lens having been cut
in half, the cut cages are turned outwardji,
and the two half circles, or thin edges of the
two priffnis so made, arc directed towarda
each other. They are placed about two
inches and a h.'df apart, with a power of
adjustment that enables them to be presented
accurately to any pair of eyes^ so th&t. «.«e.\x
4S
HOUSEHOLD WORDa
eye of the pair may look preciselj through
. the centre of the half lens presented to it
I Under such prisms the stereoscopic pictures
I are adjusted.
I Minute details upon subjects of this kind
{ must of course be sought in other publica-
, tions. Wc must in this place be satisfled if
j wc convey general ideas of a just kind upon
such topics: a notion of the stereoscope — and
at the best no more has now been given — as
we attempted on a former occasion to convey
a notion of photography. We desire to note
[ in this place that in our brief sketch of the
t processes of that art, we conveyed among
I other things an error by a slip of the scribe,
I which set down dilute pyrogallic acid as an
I agent used for fixing the picture on the
I metallic plate. A solution of hyposulphate
I of soda was the agent that should have been
\ named. Having stepped aside to correct that
erratum, we return to our proper subject and
have to content ourselves now with a final
word or two about the pseudoscope ; an in-
; strumcnt of which the name implies " false-
i hoods, I see."
I If we cheat the eyes in a stereoscope by
i showing to each eye the picture that belongs
only to its neighbour's point of view, every-
thing is perverted. Upon every point, not
, immediately in the middle line between and
' before the two eyes, the optic axes must con-
verge in the wrong way, and objects or
parts of objects will appear distant in pro-
i portion as they otherwise would have seemed
near.
j The pseudoscope is especially contrived for
1 the illustration of this fact It is a little
instrument, convenient as an opera glass in
the hand and as easily adjusted. It consists
of two prisms of flint glass, so joined, that
they may be adjusted before the eyes to the
exact focus of observation of any object The
prisms reflect the two images of any one
thing— each apparently but not actually to
the wrong eye — and, when the instrument
is 80 adjusted that the two images coincide
and the object consequently appears single,
the observer is at once subjected to illusions
of the oddest kind. A globe, so observed,
may for a minute be a globe, but after the
spectator has gazed at its rotundify for a
short while, suddenly, as if without cause, it
appears to be converted into a concave hemi-
sphere, over the brim of which continents are
flowing as the globe revolves. A China cup,
with coloured ornaments upon it in relief,
becomes a mould of half the cup with painted
hollow impressions of the flowers inside, in-
stead of outside.
The suddenness of the metamorphosis suf-
fered by such a cup belongs, one might say,
wholly to the days of sorcerv. The explanation
is, however, very natural. Relief and distance
we not suggested solely by the use of two
^es and the convergence of their optic axes.
We are accustomed to note other signs which
•» perceived by euh eye nngly. The idea
of relief being suggested by the presence
of some signs, the eyes at first are apt
to dwell upon them, and ire not dis-
posed to be immediately disturbed in their
impression.
FIRST STAGE TO AUSTRALIA.
It is of no use pretending not to know
where Park Street, Westminster, is. Dont
ask your way of the crossing-sweeper. Dont
enquire of the policeman at the comer.
You need not trouble the elderly woman
of the fniit stall to point out to you the
direction of this Open Sesame of the Great
South Land — the abode of these ofSdal gnmr-
dians of the Golden Regions, according to
popular belief. Follow the stream of furtian
jackets, corduroy trousers and smock-froclca^
keep in the rear of the chattering, excited
parties of half-shaven mechanics, slatternly
females, and slip-shod children. They axe
all moving in one direction, and you oonld
not miss your way if you tried, for it'a
much easier to follow this stream than to
move against it
Across the broad street, along the pave-
ment on the right-hand ade, cross over again,
keep straight on, round a little to the left,
then sharp to the right, and the third house
on the right-hand side, if we can but get
at it through the crowd, is the much-sought
office of tiie Commissioners of Land and
Emigration. The dense throng of impromptu
sheep-shearers, ready-made agriculturists,
and shepherds by inspiration, find it difScult
to get through the iron wicket and down the
steep stone steps into the area, where they
are compelled to pass to the lower waitings
room. Indeed, it is almost as intricate and
dangerous an undertaking as wading through
the labyrinth of type comprised in the thirty-
four rules of the Commissioners. There is a
warm and lively performance going on in
that waiting-room down below the iron
wicket amongst the ready-made &rm-8or^
vants fVom Whitechapel and the shepherds
of Shoreditch. It would be impossible to
say precisely how many tongues were going
at once about steerage passages, and sea-
sickness, and split peas.
Up the cold, broad, stone staircase, and in
the first floor on the left hand, is a quiet, bosry
room, full of active clerks — a Custom Hooae
Lcug Room in miniature. Pens are travel-
inj! over acres of paper ruled in an infinitf
of tabular forms: heads are reckoning np
shiploads of shepherds with three childn»i
and wheelwrights with one, and carpenter*
with only a wife. Senior clerks are adding
up and tabulating the totals of male aiM
female statute adults shipped by the " Wig-
gins" for Adelaide and the "Scroggina" foe
Port Phillip, and a table-full of supernume-
rary deputy-assistant clerks are ticking oflf
as many single young women as they can
afford to do for six shillings a-day. There
DIUlM.]
FraST STAGE TO AUSTRALIA.
is a bald-headed supcmumemy in one cor-
ner, in the depths of dt^spair because an
etnt^n^nt frtight note from some Irish port
will not add up. He makes the total come
to three hundred and thirty-nine and a half
statute adults; and, being a fresh hand, ho
cannot conceive the possibility of half of an
Irishman emigrating to any part of the
globe; not yet being aware that by the
GoremmeoC regulations it requires two
young children to make up the full statute
adulC
Hi(rhcr up on the next floor, secretaries,
assistant secretaries, &nd comnus!doncri<, hold
solemn dclibcnttions about shipR, shcphcnl.^,
single women, and salt pork. Early in the
mornin;;, the desks of the iussktant secretary
and chief clerk are piled with enormous
heaps of letters from every part of the United
Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, not
etting the Orkney and Shetland Island^:,
i the Isle of Man. Erery town and village
auphout the empire is represented in the
corresponding department of the Colonial
lAnd and Emigration Commission in Park
Street. The rcjuiremcnts of the colonists
Bendin<r home the funds for emigration are
all in fiiTotir of married labourers of certain
ages and ocrupations, and those considera-
tions hare, of course, to be borne in mind
in (he selection of candidates for free pas-
sages to Australia. The callings most in
requisition for these colonics are agricultural
labourers, shepherds, herds-nien, journeymen
mechanics and artisaos. It follows, that
while such persons as sliopnien, clerks,
bokers, butchers, tulors, confectioners, green-
grocers, wire-drawers, wig- makers, and jew-
ellers, are invariably refused, and whilst all
single men (e.\ccpt those who may be part
of a family) are al-so rejected, the search in
for blacksraitlis, carpenters, sawj'ers, gar-
deners, agrtcuituriata, with their wives and
families. To select the hale and honest
artisan or farm servant from the pauperiyicd
town labourer; to choose the valuable family
colonist frcni the London candidate who has
more than three children un<ler ton years
of age, or who has not been vai-cinated, or
has mors sons than daughtcpji, or who has
been in the habitual receipt of parish relief
— ^orras no inconsiderable or plcasurabte
task. It taxes the patience, the industry,
and the good temper of the scCTctary and his
&ssi.<!tants to an inordinate degree.
The work of opening, sorting and docket-
ing these Dumlierless letters begins. The
m^ority are oddly folded, oddly spelt, oddly
addressed, oddl)» worded. There is one ex-
tremely uncouth-looking epistle soldered to-
gether by cobbler's wax, and pressed tightly
down wilh the thumb. It contains an ad-
mixture of the officiol and free-and-cn.«iy
stylo ; commencing " Honoured sir," and
ending " Tours afTe-xenelly." This correspon-
dent appears to be as versatile in his " begs
to infonn to tlie honountble commissioners"
that he can not only do all sorts of field-work,
but housti-work also ; and that he believes he
shall do his country a service by going to
" Orstraley ;" that his wife can make butter,
is very stout, and has had the measles : his
three childi-en are perfect prodigies. Ano-
ther applicant indulges in a desponding
strain, telling Her Majesty's CommissioneTS
that ho is extremely desirous of biing mar-
ried to a young woman, five feet live inches
in height, with whom he has been keeping
company for three years ; but that he sees
no pros(>ect of accomplishing this unless they
will do thi-ra.selves the pleasure of sendinf
him out to the colonies. lie is a paintei
and glazier ; but is quite prepared to un<ier-
take any sort of work from a j>olice-sergeant
down to a shepherd, the r]uiiHflcations being,
he thinks, precisely the same. A third can-
didate for ex(iatrialion states himself to be
"a yung mon of goo<i ten stim fore; used to
os-scs, with a wife which will bcnr investi-
gation." A fourth is "a mill -rite with two
female children." A fifth reprciwnts himself
to be "ju.st like the fond lover wishing to
gain the <iesirc of his art, but oflcn me«ta
with disappointment;" and has an ardent
attachment for .-iustralia, and entreats the
Conmiissioners to take his case in hand by
return of post
Whiile, above stairs, piles of such letters are
la-ing read imd replied to (sometimes with
lithographed circulars), the crowd of personal
applicants have to be attended to below.
One hy one, or two by two, these are ad-
mitted to an interview •with a deputy in-
spector-general of emigrants, in a small
oirwial cabin very like a regulation steerage
berth. This oflicer is a keen-eyed, sharp-
wifted person, up to no end of artful dodg'cs,
and more than a match for any number of
painters and glaziers, or half a hundred
"niill-ritca," trying to get out under falso
pretences. "VVe have explained that only
emigrants of certain callings are eligible
for free passages out of the Government
funds. Consequently, it is the unceasuig
object and aim of hundreds of Spitnlflelds
weavers, Lambeth labourers, and Kentish
Town ends, to transform themselves into
rustic swains by the aid of sniock-frocka,
slouch hats, and laced boots. They might M
well endeavour to pa.ss themselves off as
noble savages or Aztec dwarfs. Our keen-
eyed friend in the steerage is thoroughly
up to them. He knows tliat pale faces and
smock-frocks do not belong to each other;
he can tell that bony fingers cannot pos-
sibly know anything about Rhccp-shearing,
or hedging and ditching. He can sec the
difTercncc between hands tliat have worked
with the spade and those that liuve only
made acquaintance with the yard or the
scales. He can tell by the way » man walks
into his little 'tween decks, whether he has
ever followed the plough or sewn up •
coat
4
\
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[Ooodacfad kf
From the quid digni^ of Park Street,
Westminster, we will taki- a rapki rim down
U the London Einigration Depot at the Nine
Elms Station oftlio South- Western Ilailway.
SDuthami)t«n is now the gredt |)ort of erabar-
cation for Government emigrants from tlie
Eouth coast; and, by special arrangcnicnte
with till' directors of the Railway Conipttny,
emigrants are tumporai-ily housed and fed at
their Nino Elms Station ; and ore eventually
conveyed to Southampton for a verj'' stnull
Bum per head. The extensive suite of lofty
well vontilntcd rooras;, once (he London head-
quarters of the Company, are now converted
into dormitories, refectories, and reception-
rooms for GoTcmmcnt cmigronts; and a
very comfortahle time they have of it wliitst
awaitldz the arrival of a sufficient ni:m-
b<sr to be sent off by special train to South-
ampton.
At that port the disused tcnninus is also
uiRd for the same purpose. What was once
the .iire'-kOrs' boarJ room contait,3 a nun-
drcd beds for married couples ; -the secretary's
rooms accommodate as many more for sin-
gle men; and single women are safely ac-
commodated in the old trcasuTy. The ancient
booking-ofBcc is now the dining-hnll ; and,
adjoining, the luggage-room has been con-
verted, by the aid of huge boilers and steam-
pipes, into a gigantic kitchen. The savoury
fumes of soups and meats permeate the
whole establishment; hcsTy boiler-lids are
coti.stantty leaping up, and reeking joints
peep out like Uadji Baba's thieves from the
oil-jars inijtiirtng if it were time. The hissing
an(\ Btearaing cauldron.? contain the mid-day
meal of a party of Government emigrants
momentarily expected to join the copjier-
fiifitened, swift-sailing schooner (standing A 1
at Lloyd's) "Muffineer," now in the S'outh-
Mnpton doclc^, which is promised to have
"quick dispatch" for Melbourne.
The humble passengers begin to pour in
by half-doKons, then in scores ; and presently
men, women, children, and luggage inundate
the depot, tumbling over one another fur the
first half hour in the most hopeless confusion.
But time and patience convinces everybmiy
that there is room for all and to spare. Every-
thing goes on systematically. Heavy pack-
ages are placed in an outer railed shed ;
parcck and children are carefully stowed
away on one side of the dinner-hall. There
IB a good deal of talking, and pushing about,
and wondering where ever "my boxes," or
"my Johnny,' or "my missus with baby
and the toa-canister with the money in it,"
can have got to. But at length one o'clock
comes; a large bell sounds; and, as it
die.i away, there is not one of ali that
motley crowd who ia not seated before a
clean plate.
Many of these poor emigrants have not
partaken of such a meal as that which is
now r.pread before thejD for many a day;
perhaps never before in the course of their
toilsome lives. Certainly none of them ever
laid down to rest in more comfortable beds
than they do on this first night of their wan-
derings towards the GoH World at the
Antipodes,
Long before the Southampton public are
awake or moving, tlie emigrants arc up, and
submitting their baggage to the examination
of the government officer ; whose duty it is to
SCO that each has an outfit sufficiently abun-
dant for a four months' voyage. Sometime*
a few articles of clothing arc found wanting;
for many of these people ore of the poorest
class ; but the deficiency is in certain cases
made good by a Ladies' Emigration Com-
mittee at Southampton; which takes care
that no mother of a family leaves her
home without such comfortfi for herself and
her children as are indispensable to a long
Toyage.
Every attention is necessarily given to
cleanliness and ventilation on board the ships
chartered by the Emigration Coaimissioners ;
and, as soon aa the pa.s8cngers have been
allotted their respective berths, they are each
served with a set of utcnsHs necessary for the
voyage ; such as a tin pot, a bread basket, a
can for water, metal plates, knives, forks, and
spoons, in addition to bedding and a clothes
bag. These articles become the property of
the emigrants at the end of the voyage, ex-
cept in crises of misconduct Recently, it has
been found necessary to take from the emi-
grants at the port of cmbarcation a written
engagement, that, if they go to the gold ftflda»
or if they quit the colony within four yeart
after landing, they will repay to the colonial
government a proportionate part of their pas-
sage money, at the rate of four pounds per
adult for each year remaining to complete
four years from landing. This i.s the merest
justict! to the colonists ; who provide funds
in order thnt l.ibimrera. might be forwarded
to them ; and not with the romantic bene-
volence of stocking the diggings with g;old
seekers.
It does not require many days to fill fhs
' ' Muffineer." The stores are all on board, the
sails are loojccned, the last group of partinjf
friends have Itft the gangway, the emigraticm
agent certifies that all is complete, the word is
given to the little steam-tug to move ahead,
whilst hats and handkerchiefs arc waved,
tears are shed, and as the " ttuflSnecr" is being
towed out of the mouth of the harbour, somS
few rather bolder and stouter than the rest
try to get up a parting cheer ; hut it generally
turns out a, miserable failure. They are ofT, to
swell the living tide that floats towards the
south. They xvho have been inured to
labour are off, from hunger, toil, and sorroir,
to plenty, to comfort, and happiness. They
are off, from the poor-hniisc, the jail, and tht
asylum, to the green hills, and fertile fields of
a new land.
During this present year to the end of Jans
there bad left our shores for all parts of the
Gharha DtekiiiL]
A BRILLIANT DISPLAY OF FIREWORKS.
48
I
world not fewer than two hundred and
ninety-two thousand three hundred and
forty-seven persons. Of these, one hundred
and ninety-nine thousand left for the United
States of America, and fiily-two thousand for
the Australian gold regions. The remainder
went to Canada and to other places. The
channels through which all this has taken
place havo been various. Parish emigra-
tion, assisted emigration, fi-ee emigration,
emigration through the aid of relatives,
and lastly that mode of which we pur-
pose treating more especially, Government
emigration.
A BRILLIANT DISPLAY OP
FIREWORKS.
It is eleven o'clock at night The moon is
shining, not too brightly to dim tlie fun of the
" Gardens." There is a temporary respite.
The Suftblk pro'lig.v, eight years of age, and
weighing an unlimited number of " stun,"
has exhibited his fat legs for the small charge
of threepence. Sporting amateurs in pina-
fores have had a pop at a revolving htrget
of foxca and hares at a penny per shot.
Professor Contortini and his talented son
have tied themselves up into endless knots,
and the Signora Doublcdoni has petrified her
patrons and patronesses (at twopence a head)
by her inexplicable powers of clairvoyance and
tliought-reiiding. The grand concert is over,
in which the celebrated comic singer obtained
five encores. The angels of the grand ballet
liavo shed their wings and their muslin,
and are supping off saveloys with their re-
spective husbands and families. The visitors
have ascertained satisfactorily, by the ex-
penditure of BJindry pennies, which amongst
themselves is the tallest, which the heaviest,
and which can punch a spring-bulfer with the
greatest force. The Hungarian Baud have
bung up their instruments, and ar'i sporting
pea coats over their spangles and tights.
The Polygraphic Views are rolled up ; the
American nine-pins are all finally knocked
down, and the Chinese peg-top has gone
to sleep for the night The rifie-gallerj'
has coucd its whiz, fizz, slap, bang. The
Circus has displayed the talents of "the
graccfuUeuyer^," the "dashing horsewoman,"
the "sylph of the arena," tlie " queen of the
maniQt, the " equestrian star," the " demon
horseman," the " gymnastic wonder," and the
" uAqualled contortionists." The butler-tub
phenomenon has rolled his perilous way up a
hundred feet of inclined plane anitil.st the
breathless droad of the spectators that he
will tumble off and break his neck before ho
lias reached the end of the phnk. The Elastic
Brothers have performed then: matchless
feats of standing upon nothing and swinging
on chin-balanccd poles twenty feet high. —
The din of amusement is over ; and now
nothing remain.s to be seen but the achicve-
Bients of Chevalier Mortnm, witli his troop
of Salamanders. They have taken possession
of a certain dark portion of ground, backed
by a wootl and canvas temple of an unknown
order of that ultra composite architecture
known as the Indescribable.
What the Chevalier is about to do no one
is supposed to know but him.self. lii the iin-
penctrablo breast of the artist lies the de-
termination whether there shall be rockets
with tail-stars, or with golden rain, or
with brilliant heads ; whether Bengal lights
shall burst with green fire or red fire ;
whether there shall be a pot d'aigrette,
with a tree of silver flowers and a grand
shower of fiery serpents; whether a shell
shall explode with brilliant stars, or with
snakes; whether there shall be a six-rayed
star, with Chinese flyers and a grfttid
cros.* of jerb fire; whether Jack-in-the-Box
shall explode his crackers in the air; whether
a Devil-among-the-Tailors shall tdd his
freaks with a grand explosion of flower-pots
and fizzgigs ; whether there shall be a
cascade of golden flowers, or an asteroid
rocket to change colour seven times, or an
o-scending shower of snakes, or a fiery dragon
to dart and wriggle and spit fire over the
heads of the spectators.
We arc behind the scenes ; and we there
learn from the renowned fire artist aiany
curious and interesting things. Wo arc told
first that the pyrotechnic art illustrates many
of the iin>st imjwrtant principles in chemistry,
optica and dynamics. Explosion itself i.s, he
says, a chemical phenomenon. As a general
rule, jiyrotechny depends on the property
which nitre jiosscsses of accelerating the cora-
bu.stion of inHaramablc substances, even when
excluded from tlie air; nitre, or saflpetro, or
sal-prunella (for they are nearly equivalent
names) is on this account the soul of all
pyrotechny. Of the substances whose com-
bustion nitre accelerates, sulphur is the
principal ; it is used either as roll-suljibEr or
tlower of sulphur. The third most important
ingredient is charcoal ; which is made from
hard wood or soil wood, and is ground finely
or coarsely, according to the kind of effect
which is rctjuired to be produced. Nitre,
^ulfihur, and charcoal, are the three ingro-
dieiiLs of gunpowder, and the pyrotechnist
uses them largely, as gunpowder, in this com-
bined Btitc; but he also uses them sepa-
rately and in varied pro[)ortions. For minor
purpases, bitumen, pitch, tiiHow, resin, coal,
camphor, glitsit, rot<-a, orpiment, alcohol, metal
filings, benzoin, oils, sawdiLst, amber, clay,
frankinccaae, myrrh, and other substances,
arc occasiomjly employed ; but nitre, sulphur,
charcoal, metal filings, and a few salts, arc
the materials in ordinary of a brilliant display
of fireworks.
Let those materials be combined in
what number op proportions they may, a
chemical change instantly follows ignition.
The desired result may be an cxplo.sion, or a
recoil, or a flame, or > stream of sparks ; but
a
m
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
all these arc alike chemical phenomena.
\Vhcn an explosion takes place, the solid
ii)ateri.tlR, or some of them, are instantly
converted into gases ; and these gases occupy
PC much more space than the solids, that they
must displace air to obtain room for them-
selves, and the violent of this displacement
occasions the noise of the explosion. If the
materials bo confined within a strong paper
case, or a gun barrel, the greater efforts of
the exjianding gSises to rend it increases the
intensity of the noiso. If flame be required,
exploding materials must be loosely confined,
and the solids must bo such that their
resultant gases will inflame or ignite. If
sparks be wanted, some one of the materials
must bear an intense heat and reflect an
intense light before being dissipated. All
these are chemical eflects ; and different com-
binations of ingredients are neces-sary to
ensure their production. For simple explosion
without other attendant phenomena, gun-
powder is the chief or only agent; for a
recoil motion, such as that of rockets and
seri>ents a little less proportion of nitre is
used ; for flame, charcoal is as much as
possible excluded ; for sparks, charcoal pre-
ponderates, aidetl by metal filings. The slow
or the quick burning of substance, the pro-
duction of soundorof light, the exhibition of
flames or of sparks — arc all the result of
chemical laws.
Xo one can di.<!puto the optical beauty of
fire-works. The sparks and the flames may
be regarded as luminous particles, rendered
visible by intense heat; but the most gor-
geous effects are produced by the reflection
of coloured rays derived fhjm various che-
mical mixtures ; the nitre and the sulphur
and the charcoal, one or more, produce
the flame and the sparks, but it is some-
thing else which imparts brilliancy of colour.
The theatres arc famous show places for
these coloured fires. When Jessonda is about
to be immolated, and the Portuguese besiege
the ca.stle, one feels terribly hot at the idea of
the approaching flames ; and when Don
Juan is pushed down by small devils in
horns, tails i^nd brown tights through a
trap-door, there are misgivings as to the
•lature or the red fire into which he is
plmijiod. But there is nothing to fear.
Nitrate of strontian docs it all ; and chemistry
thus comes to the aid of Spohr and Mozart
Very while light, used for " white speckles"
or illumination lights in ornamental fire-
works, owe much of their whiteness to zinc
<iliii<;s. Poie blue light is indebted to a little
antimony as well as zinc. Red is producwl
by the addition cither of mica or nitrate of
strontian to the other ingredients. Purple
fire is aided by red lead ; yellow by black-
lead ; preen by nitrate of copper ; yellowish-
white by red orpiment, and so on. The che-
nistry of colour is taxed by the pyrotechnist
to the utmost : a new colour would be wel-
comed by him as much as a new sauce by
an epicure or a new idea by a poet Nor
are radiant and reflected coloured lights alone
treasures to him ; but he occasionally makes
use of transmitted light In the old-fashioned
illuminating lamps, fed with oil instead of
gas, the gay colours are due to the little
glass vessels and not to the flame itself;
they are examples of coloured light produced
by transmission. This tnuwmitted light does
wonders on the stage. When Mario and
Grisi in I^i Favorita mope in the moonlight;
or when the dead nuns in Robert le Diable
dance an unearthly ballet, we may make 4
tolerably near guess that a green glass bottle,
placed in front of a strong light, produces the
moonshine.
The laws of dynamics or mechanical move-
ment are, besi<les those of chemistry, illus-
trated and brought into play in pyrotechnics.
The ascent of a sky-rocket, and the revolving
of a fire- wheel, arc beautiful examples of these
laws. When a cannon is fired, the ball goes one
way and the cannon another — ^the latter being
affected by a recoil. It is true this rccoQ ii
very slight, on account of the great weight of
the cannon, and the mode in wliich it is ooii>
nected with the ground. The gunpowder
behind the ball explodes or expands into gas;
this gas must and will find room for itBel(
eitiier by driving the ball out of the cannon,
or by driving the cannon away from the
ball, or both. Apply this to a sky-rocket
A rocket is a strong paper tube, filled with
inflammable matter. It is fixed vcrtic^hr
to a stick ; and, when fired at the lower en^
the composition becomes converted into t
gas. This gas, pressing and driving in all
directions, finds an outlet, rushing out with
great force ; and is accompanied by a briUiant
shower of sparks at the opened lower end;
but it also drives the case itself upwards br
the recoil. The ascent of the rocket is whoDj
due to the efforts of the gaseous cxplodtd
mixture to escape. Tliis recoil is the saiat
in principle as that displayed by a satw
propeller, however different it may appev u
action. The screw must turn round, becasae
a steam-engine irresistibly compels it, but H
cannot do this without either driving tht
water in one direction or the ship in another.
It does both ; the ship recoils under the fbroe
used, and thus is it moved along. The bcis-
tiftil revolving wheels which form such at*
tractive objects in pyrotechnic displays an
in like manner dependent on the dyouec
action of the wheel. They are kindled it
certain points — sometimes at the pcriphorr,
sometimes at the side of the spokes — and the
expanding gases rush out at the orifices. Bat
this nish tends to recoil against the wheel
itself; and, if the orifice be judiciously placed
the recoil will cause the wheel to rotate with
great velocity. There are many machines in
which a rotatory movement is given by tht
escape of water or air through orifices, on 1
principle somewhat analogous. The model
of applying these chemical, and optical, and
r
/
A BRILLIANT DISPLAY OP FIREWORKS.
47
djDamictil principles may be almost inQnite.
It is the pyrott'chnisl's business to find out
these mofles; it is his craft, his art aj»d mys-
tery, the fniit of his ingenuity, and the source
of his bread and cheese.
Listen to a catalogue of some among the
many forms which these graceful displays of
light and colour and form and motion are
made to pre«ent ; —
First Uwre is the Sky-rocket, already
noticed — a cylindrical case intended to ascend
to a great height, give out a provision
oP sparks daring its ascent, and spread a
brilliant shower of coloured stars when it
explode.^*, high up in the skiey regions. A
Tonrbilhn is a sort of double rocket, having
oriflces so placed a* to produce a doulilc recoil
—one rotatory and one vertical ; the Tour-
Vdhui revolvuti and asccnJ:^ at the same time,
and is ar> exceedingly beautiful and brilliant
tiraflrork- A Roman Candle is a case containing
one or more smaller cases; a stream of
sparks carries up a brilliant kind of star,
which nmy be white, blue, or sparkling,
according to the ingredients which it contains.
A gerb or jcrb Is a firen-ork tlcpending chiefly
on the hriiliant sparkles of steel and iron
filings; and a Chinese founlJiin is somewhat
similar to it A Pot-de-Brin is a case or
cavity fWim which serpents, stars, and
crackers, are thrown up into the air. A Pot-
d'AujretU tlirows up serpents only ; while a
Pot-d«-''iiuciiDion throws up cases which arc
half serpent half cnicker. A Balloon (in the
pjTotechuic, not the aeronautic icnse) is a
ahoJl propelled from a mortar, and made to
Mfttter squibs, cracker;, serpents, and stars,
when it e^cplodes at a great height: this is
often very magntficcot A Cracker is a small
case filled with dense powder, and producing
a loud re]>ort when exi>lodeii ; a Maroon is a
large cracker; and both form component
partj of larger fireworks. A Saueunon is
compounded of a brilliant (!re and a bounce,
and is discharged out of a mortar fl.ved on
the ground. A Scroll is a kind of tovrhilLon
on a amall scalo, provided with a rotatory
motion. A Ritin is a composition for adding to
sky-rockets and other pieces ; it pours down
a vertical shower of brilliant sparks, which
may br of any desired colour. A Star is a
brill iitnt light, produced by the explosion
of a small case connected xvith sky-rockets
and Roman candles. A Wheel — v?hether a
single case, or a spiral, or a compound, or a
horizontal, or a compound spiral, or a diverg-
ing vertical, or a rererHcd, or a conical hori-
zontal, or an extending, or a diminishing, or a
concentric, or an alternating wheel — is a
framework of wood or iron, having cert.-iin
axial movements according to its kind ; long
tubes filled with gunpowder or composition
arc twined upon, or around, or within the
wheel in various directions ; and when these
compositions are fired the recoil cau.scs the
wheel to revolve horizontally, or vertically, or
to ascend or descend — endless beauties are av
the pyrotcclmifit's command in these pro-
ductions. .A. Geometrical Figure is such an
arrangement of tilled paper cases as will pro-
duce when ignited a fiery cross, ti-iangle,
square, hexagon, octagon, or otlier figure. .\n
Ostrich Feather, or Prince of Wales's plume is
a pleasing spread of sparkling fin.', usually
forming (he apex of a pyramidal fu-ework.
A Tree throws out coloured fires at various
angles for either side of a vertical ct-ntre.
These are only some among the many Tiiriettes
at the dispo.sal of the artist
There were Mortrams, llenglers, Southbys,
and Darbys in early daj's ; although rather for
militiry than for holiday duties. The Chinese
and Hindoos m.ade and exploded fireworks
long before Europe had any fireworks to ex-
plo(Je. The famous Greek Fire which was
used at Acre against the crusading army of
St Loui.s, has occasioned numberless specula-
tions and controversies. This fire, the old
annalists tell us, " came forward as large as a
barrel of verjuice, with a tail of fire issiiing
from it as big as a great «vord, making a
noise in its passage like thunder, and seeming
like a dragon flying through the air; and
from tho great quantity of light it threw out,
giving such a light that one might sec in the
camp as if it had been day." It is also de-
scribed as " consuming even flint and iron,"
and as* emitting an awful .stench. The Hy-
Mntincj used the Greek Fire against the
Pisana ; Pliilippe Auguste employed it against
the Eiigli.sh vessels at the siege of Calais ; and
it was used at tho siege of Yprcs in thirteen
hunilrcd and eighty-three. The late Dr.
Macculloch, after a labourotl attempt to dis-
cover what the Greek Fire really vva."!, gave
it up as a hopeless task, concluding that
the peoi)lc who witnc.s.sed it were too iniii'h
frightened to speakintelligibly about iL When
nitre came into use as an aid to combustibles,
fireworks and gunpowder may equally be a-iid
to have been invented. Whatever Roger
Uacon may have done in this way in Europe,
it is certain tho Chinese preceded him by a
dozen or two of ix'nturies. Without speaking
of Chinese fireworks generally, we may say a
few words concerning the Chinese " drum,"
which so excited Sir George Staunton's admi-
nition during hia visit to China. This
firework appears to resexnble a cylindrical
band-box, oniainented on the exterior with
paintings. When it is to be fired, it is
suspended from a stand twelve or fifteen
feet high. Tho light is applied at tho
lower jiart There immediately drops out
below a transparent piece, accompanied by
brilliant light, which falls to the ground
iflcr being burned out ; and this is suc-
ceeded by ten or a dozen others, all differ-
ing in device. These appear to bo — not merely
transparent pictures — ^but castles, ship.s lan-
terns, globes, cones, and other hoUow moilels,
illumined within and without They are
made of transparent painted paper, sup-
ported on a light wooden framework. All
I
4S
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
these object'* are packed awny with great in-
genuity in tl»e bottom of the drum; and they
»ro so surrounded and connected by tubes,
and slow matches, and composition, and firu-
worka, that tliey drop ono by one out of the
open end of the drum, displaying their
b«auties for a brief space, and then quietly
go out
Whetlier it is Chin-chop-chow making
fireworks for the Celestials at Pekin, or
Chevalier Mortram making for the British
public, there is doubtless much simtlaritj in
the workshop proccases, the manufacturing
operations. The gunpowder haa to bo
pounded, and the sulphur and charcoal
pounded and purified, The metal filings
have to bo brought to different degrees of
finenesR, and l}ic colouring jnaterials preiiared
and the various combinations mixed in due-
proportions. The paper cases also must be
made. Strong cartridge or brown paper is
rolled round a mandril or rod into a tubular
form, the Ia.st lap being secured by paste.
These paper tubes, filled in various ways and
to different degrees, constitute the whizzing,
and bouncing, and cracking, and sparkling
fireworks. Tlien there are veins or arteries,
not necessary for visible display, but for con-
veying the fiery impulse from one work to
another. These ore called lead<'rs. Tliey
con.^ist of paper tubes containing string which
haa been dipped in certain solutions, varied to
act as dow-matcb or quick-match, according
to need.
On the fifth of November, when Muffincap
and his schoolfellows prepare a grand display
of firewsrks, at their joint cspcnse, tliey of
course take care not to omit the .squibs [ but
they know nothing of these two facts — that
every halfpenny squib undergoes no less than
thirteen distinct processes, end that tbcslio]i-
keeper gets more for selling it than the pyro-
technist gets for making it. The cutting,
the rolling, the choking, the charging, the
knocking-out, the bouncing, the capping, the
tying arc some, but not all, of the events
in the birth of a squib. First, strong broivn
paper, weighing eighty pounds to the renin, is
cut into thirty-six pieces per sheet, each piece
to make a squib ; the case is formed with this
stout paper, and is covered with much thinner
white paper ; each little tube is choked witli a
dent or depression near ono end ; it is partly
filled with composition through a funn«i(, and
rammed down with a rod ; it is further filled
with loose powder; it is provided with a
nipple, and touch paper, and i blue cap and
a sealing of wax or glue — and thus it goes
forth into society at the cheap cost of half-a-
Tfown per gros-s.
A squib is a Diiniature representative of a
large number of fireworks ; for the mixing of
the composition, the making of the tube, and
the filling, are the types of operation both on
the large and the small scale. To a rocket
there is a sti-ong cylindrical cartridge case, to
contain the composition which is to produc«
the projectilu force by its explosion. Upon its
upper extremity is fixed a conical ease, also of
paper, to contain the stars, or serpents, or
crackers, which are to astonish tlie natives by
their display when high up in the air. A
pound rocket is perhaps an inch-and-a-half in
diameter by fourteen and fifteen incthes lon^
The composition in the conical part difien
from that in the cylindrical part chiefly in
the addition of antimony or some metal whicb
shall aid in producing the grand fiarc-up vvhoi
the rocket has reached its greatest height
The filling and securing of the cases arc niea
operations, requiring much care ; and when
these arc completed, the rocket is attached to
a long wooden rod. This rod acts like the
tail of a kite, or the feather of an arrow ;
preserves the line of direction during
rocket's (light _
All smrh operations as theso — the preparing
of ingredient.s, the making of cases, the filFuig,
the sealing and touching — are carried on
the workshops of our Chevalier and
brother pyrotechnists: where are also made
the frames and wheels which are to support
the largest Artworks. At the public garde
where .such disjilays occur there is n sutjsidia
workshop, in which the tubes, and Icade
anil fuxis, are adjui>led to their proper placet
on the frames or scallulding. And nere it iS
interesting to observe how time becomes an
element in the work. All the leaders, c<m»
tainiug the match or fu^e compasition, are i
adjusted in length that they shat! convey i
ignition to every spot at the exact iiist
required ; else the banging of the cracken
might commence before the bcautirul star ha
done its shining work, or the rotation of I
wheel might be so ill-timed as to burst the
cnicker. The appearance of the frame itself
with all the tubes and lenders tie<l to it to
various directions, wouid give a stranger very
little idea of the uUim.itc forms and mor*-
ments intended to be produced.
In his mysterious plot of ground, •with hb
frames, and rockets, and wheels, and marooos
placed conveniently at hand, the monarch of
the fiery region kindles the results of fait
labours, one by one, and oQ" they go — anudR
exclanmtions of the wildest delight buratinj
from thousands of upturned cotintcnancea
At length the National Anthem bursts forih,
the last stir faints and expires; and thert
is an end to the brilliant display of.
works.
the
1
fuig, A
M
iiort T
" F'lmiliar in lUir Moutht <u HOUSEltOLD WORDS."-
n-AKBvm«aL
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
A WEEKLY JOURNAL.
CONDUOXED BY CHARLES DICKENS.
Vol. VIII.
McELRATH <b BARKER, PUBLISUERS.
Whclb No. 182.
CONVICTS IN THE GOLD REGIONS.
Os arriving at the main Sydney route from
the town bounilary of MeUjoilrne^Melhourne
ikiiious, among other thiiii;6, ever siiu'e it rosi;
to fame two years ago, for no roads, or the
worst rutxl;*, or impassable slouglm, it\V!ini]is,
and rights of way through suhiirb wastes of
bush, and boulder stones, and stumps of trees
— leaving, I say, all these pwuliaritics be-
hind, you suddenly arrive at the oiieiiiu}? of
the main road to Sydney, leading in a dirci-t
line to tlic village of Pentridge, the position
of the Convict Stockado. This is tlio chief
pifnril deput of the colony.
Tliti first thing that lilrikes you, adcr all
you have gone through, is the excellence of
the road, its direttness, and its lenjjtli. You
look aliViga straight road, broad, well-formed,
hard, clean, with drains running along each
aide, protected (together with the lower edges
of the road) by laVge bouliier-stones and
heavy lops at intervals, and the eye traverses
along this to an unvarying distance of two
miles and a quarter. There is no road to
be compared with it in the colony, and the
whole of this has been the product of convict
labour, within the space of httlc more than
two yeartj and four or tive months. Ik- it
undenrtocxl very great difficulties had to
be OTcrcom'', in respect of swamps, huge
stones, .inil large trees, and stuuipH with ;;re:it
roots. Nor was this the whole of the work
performed by the convicts of Pentriilfj;i\ a
bridge and part of a road elsewhere having
been constructed simultaneously ; the bridge
alone, if it had been built by free labour
during these periods of high wages, being of
the value of Qve thousand pounds. Whatever
the saTUig ks to cost, however, the value of a
good road and a bridge to a new country like
this i.s nhnost beyond calculation. I forget
what prriciiral philosopher it was who said,
"The worst use you can put a man to is to
hang him," but surely most people wilt readily
admit that such a rood tia the above, in any
country, and more especially in the colony of
Victoria, in not only fiir more useful, but a
flv more huiuane and sightly object than the
gdlowa
The road to Pontrideo gradually and
slightly ris« till you reach the top, when a
turn to the right brings you at once upon the
ground of the Stockade, which iies in a hoi
low a little below. A lirst impression docj
not convey any ade<|uate impression of its
strenpth, or general ckiratter as a penal
establi.shmenL You see several detached
tents upon the higher ground, with a sentinel
walking to and fro in front of them; and you
look down upon a low-roofed, straggling
range of buildings, something in appearance
between an English country brewhouse, and
a military outpost liolding it in charge. De-
scending the slope, and reaching ttie house of
the superintendent, a Sf|uare garden of cab-
bages, and s(juare beds of weeds mixed with
flowers and shrubs fa type of most of the
gardens since the discovery of the gold), ia
seen on the other side of the horseway be-
tween, with a green swampy field beyond,
bounded by a long iron-grey wall of largo
loose .stones, with a few trees to the right,
and the head of a sentinel moving backwards
and forwards — upon legs we assume — in the
nieridow or tn.nr.sh below on the other side.
Keing left alone for a white under tho
wooden vcrawlah of the house, tlie picture is
further enlivened by the slow approach of a
cow from a cow-house in the pro.\imity of the
cabbage square, which pauses and looks at
mu with a rueful and rather commiserating
expresiiion. She is pretty comfortable her-
self, but she sees that I nm a new comer, and
wonders perhaps whnt I have done to be
brought there. The place is all very silent ;
so is the cow I so of course nra I. .\ dog now
comes round tho corner, and after looking at
me, without barking or other demonstration,
retires, I follow mechanically, and on turn-
ing the angle of the house I come in view of
what [ had at first compared in my mind
to a country brewhouse, which on a closer
examination becomes formidable enoitgh, pre-
senting as it docs very tmmisLakeablo indica-
tions of strength, precaution, and watchful
vigilance, both within and without. No voice
fs heard ; nothing is heard but the clash of
the chains of a g^ng of convicts pa.s.?ing across
one of the yards.
Tho Sitperintendcnt, Mr. Barrow, who is
at the head of the penal estahlishment.s of
the colony, appears, and on my making some
allusion to the men in chains, gives me their
collective history in a few words, which show
that the said cWns are by no means un-
so
HOUSEHOLD WORDa
[CwlMto4 ky
I
t
necessary ornanitnts. Mast of the convicts
have liccn, in one place or otlier, prisoners
frora cliildhood. They have been three times
convicted at homo; first of all, whipped, per-
haps, in the Parkhurst prison for juvenDc
odenders. After beinR exposed to the coii-
tnniinnting iiitiutncc of many more depraved
thnn (lieniKekes they have been pardoned,
and Bcnt iidrill on the world, worse thnn
when tlvcy entered it. Again apprehendeJ nnd
convicted they litivc been sent to Pentonville,
or some other prison. Liberated after years,
again following a coui-se of crime, ainl once
more apprehended and convicted, they have
been transported to Van Dii'iiien'^ Lund, or
Norfolk Island. At cneli of these [ihices, ,iiid
in all their prisons, at Ijotiie and fibroad, the
pet system of penal traiiiins? and reform in
use at the period has been tried, and all have
failed. Obtaining their condiLional pardons,
after a certain number of j-ears in Van
Diemen's Land, or Norfolk Island, they have
had it in their power to go with their ticket
of leave to any of the .■\u.stralian colniiies. Of
course they have made directly for Jlelhoiirne
— first to the gold region of the dijifjins,
and next to the more fixed gold region of llie
wealthy lommunity ia the town. Most of
the crimes of these men — that is to say, ninety
per cent, of them, have origirmted in England.
They hiid Iheir tliief experience and training
at home. They have eommitted everj- crane
here, to obtain gold, whith tiieir previous
knowledge, skill, and depravity could suggest
— and here they are at last
It is night; a cold wind blows and a
drisKling rain falls. An iron tongue, that is
to Kay, a large bell in the Stockade, now
Announces that the time has arrived for all
the prisoners to go lo bed. A jingling of
chains \s heard as the several gangs pass
across the yard, then a sound of the drawing
of boltit, then silence, I cannot help specu-
lating on the different sorts of Buppresscd
ferocity in the faces of all these subdued
human tigers, as they sit up on their wooden
palleUi, or look out from beneath their
blankets.
Dining with the Superintendent, and tlie
chief ofiiccr in conamand of this de[iartnK'nt
{an old army captain), ttc arc waited upon by
one of the aborigines, whose black face is
•without a Fingle tint of negro brown, lie
is a prisoner of the Stockade, but in reward
for a long period of good conduct, is en-
trusted with this comparative degree of
liberty. He understands enough English —
chiefly nouns, with a few morsels of verbs —
to wait very well; and though in lii.s training
he let fall or otherwise demolished a fearfid
amount of plates, glasses, and other Klrance
and wondrt>us domestic articles which were
previously unknown to his bands or eyes, he
nas now attained sufficient skill to avoid all
Buch disasters. But he has his ninny old
misfortunes of this kind in constant memory,
and is full of dreadful apprebeofiiona at every^
feat he performs. When he places a de-
canter of wine on the table, he remains %
second or two with glaring eyes, and slowly
withdrawing his open hands from both sides,
ready to catch it in case it should take a fit
of tumbling over as he walks away. Lie has
an awful look of care in lianding me a larga
dish of smoking potatoes. It seems like a
solemn rite to un idol. I do not dare to
glance up at his face. His constant care and
watchftilncs.s are extraordinarj', and he ob-
viously possesses far more intelligence than
the aborigines of Australia are generally
believed capable of acquiring. Mr. Barrow
inform.* me that ho is really in all ordinary
respects a very good and trusty servant, and
that he has n«rer been known to tell an
untruth.
T5nt the picture I have formed in my imagi-
nalion, of all those fierce convicts in their
chains — which arc not taken off even at
night — sitting up in their dens, or scowling
up from beneath their blankets, still haunting
ine, I feel obliged to communicate my wish
to Mr. BaiTow to be permitted, if not con-
trary to rules, to pay them a pa.ssing visit
forthwith. My wish being courteou.sly ac-
corded, I accompany the captain to the gate
of the Stockade, and having passed this, and
the armed sentinels, T find myself in a sort of
barrnck-yard, to appearance, with store-
rooms at each side, having strong narrow
doors, immense iron bolLs, and an iron grating
above for ventilation. The captain informs
me that the stores arc n(ft thus protected to
prevent anybody from walking off with them,
but to render it almost impossible for the
stores themselves lo escape. These strong
rooms are, in fact, the wards, or dormitories
of the convicts. Being invited to look in upon
them, I a[iproach one of tliese bolted doon
A square shutter is unfastened and pushed
aside by the captain, and displays an iron
grating through which I look at the irre-
clairaablcs in their Jairs. How absurdly
different is the reality from the picture I had
framed in my imagination f Over a largo
room are distributed on stretchers, or other
raised surface, and all so close together as
only to allow of space for passage round each,
a number of bundles of bedding, apparently,
each enveloped in a grey and blue chequered
coverlid of the same pattern. The bales or
bundles are without motion or sound ; no
voice is heard, no hc-ul Or foot i.<i visible. Eicb
bundle contains the huddled up form of a
convict, who adopts this plan to obtain the
greatest degree of warmth. Some are, no
doubt, asleep; many wide awake, and full of
peculiar thoughts: and perhaps even of fresh
plans, should they ever again get a chance.
What a volume of depraved life, what a
prison-history lies enfolded in each of those
moveless coverlids! There is absolutely
nothing more to be seen, and wc pass on to
the nest door. It is very much the same.
A third ward, however, presents a dificrence,
dwlM I>l<k«M.1
till' sleeping; plnces being built up in separate
berths, formed of cros? batlL-nii, like very
strong wooden cages for benrs. The occu-
pants of the upyier tier ascend by means of a
woodrii bracket whirh juts out nbout half
way up. lliTC I did see one fo'H pnilrudiiig,
belonging probably to some taJl miin who
was not in irons. A lantborn i.< siispendiHl
from the centre of the roiif, by a cunl which
is passed oTur a pulley, atid niiu; througli a
hole above the door, so that the guard cun
raise it or lower it at any tiiue during the
night without opening the door. When the
light needs trimming, the lantboru beiug
lowered, one of the prisoners, whose turn it
is, has to get up and attend to it The gleam
it sheds i£ very melancholy, aluiost funereal.
Hard nature!!, indeed, must ibey be, who,
lying awake soraeli: ' ■■ night, are not
softened to a few si-; . Iits or emotions
ae they look arouu'i m^iu; but hard no
doubt they are, and most of them of the
hardest.
The Superintendent has work to do in hi.s
office — letters, reports, calculations, ac-
count-s, <lkc. ; ha becomes absent and Uciturn,
and I betake myself to bed. Thiou^hout the
whole night, I am awakened every half hour
by the Stockade bell, and am five limoj> in-
fonned, by the different voices of five sen-
tinels, heanl in succession from different points
of the building, near and remote, that " all's
well !" After the sixth or seventh round of
this, however, I get used to it, and drop to
sleep again after bearing the satisfactory
announcement.
Early in the morning, Billy — the aboriginal
— comes bolt into my room with my boots in
one band, and a jug of hot water in the
other. He neither utters a word, nor looks at
me (except in a way he has with his eyebulls
turned /row me), but places the boots on the
floor, hovering with one hand over them in
case either of them should fall sidewaj-s, and
then gets tlie jug upon the dressing- table.
He stares at it with a w.nming, or rather a
threatening, look, when, seeing that it stands
firmly, his gloomy features relax, and he
departs as abruptly as he entered.
At seven o'clock the bell calls the convicts
to a genera] muster in the principal yard,
preparatory to the diflcrent gangs being
marched ofif to their various description.^ of
work. Mr. Barrow accompaiues tne into the
yard. ^V'o pass through the little narrow
massive pate, and I am at once in the presence
of the tljn<-e picked and sifted incorrigiblcs
of the mother country and her Australian
colonies. .Sentinels, with loaded muskeLs,
patrol the outskirts of (he yard, and officers
and constables anncd with truncheons stand
on guard outside the ranks. Many of the
convicts have irons on their logs, but the
majority are quite free, and can "make a
ni.'ih " if they will.
The convicts arc ranged like a regiment of
■oldiers at muster, the rear ranks taking
CONVICTS IN THE GOLD REGIONa
open order. Tliey are all rbresscd in the
usual grey, or dark pepper-and-salt coarsu
cloth. Tho yard is quite silent, and the
names are called over. None of the black
sheep are mistiing. I look along the ranks
from face to face — with apparent inditTLTcnce,
casually, and with as little offence or purpose
in my gnzc as possible ; and F am quile sure
that it is not from knowing what they are, but
really from a genuine impre!*.-iion of what is
written by the Bngers of experience in vixy
marked lines and characters, and fluctuating
or fixed sbad&s that I am persua<led there is
not one gooti face among them. No, not one.
Ou the contrary, nearly every face is ex-
tremely bad. 1 go over them all again in the
same ca.sua!, purposeless way (they are not
deceived by it a bit), and I feel satisfied that
a worse .set of fellows never stood in a rovr
than those before rue. BenejUh tliat silent
outwardly subdued air there is the manifest
lurking of fierce, depraved, remorseless
spirits, ready with the first chance to rush
away into the course of crime that brought
them here. By thi.s time they ai-e all
at work upon nic, quietly sj>eculating on
who I am, what I want, and if my visit
portenils anything to them. The yanl id
covered with loose stones of broken granite ;
and I notice close to my feet, and looking up
directly into my face, a magpie. lie also,
holding his head on one side intcrrogiilively,
seems to ask my basincss here. 1 tmko a,
frt'sh breath as I look down at the little
thing, as the only relief to tho oppressive
seuso of prison doom Uiat pervades the lieavy
scene.
Tho different working gangs aro now
marched utf, about twenty at a time, with n
suflicient interval both of time and dLstanco
between each, in case of a combination for a
rush. Some go to work at building, .some on
the roads, some to the bridges, some to shoe-
making, carpentering, &c. Tramp — tramp —
tramp — with a jingle of irons — and they aro
all gone, and the little, narrow, massive gate
is closed. The yard is vacant and silent, with
nothing to be seen but the magpie bopping
Over the broken granite, and nothing now to
be heard but tho faint retiring jingle of the
chains, the low continuous quire of the frogs
in the swamp, and the distant lowing of a
forlorn cow.
It will have been evident before thi.s that
everything is conducted here on a <i.ved sys-
tem, rigidly and undeviatingly cnforce<l, and
that this is perfectly necessiirv, considering
the subjects that have to bo dealt with. No
loud voice of coramnncl is ever huini, and
the Superintendent has .strictly forbidden all
strong laiignago on tli':' pnrl of the various
oifieers and constables; the eoiivii-l.s are all
controlled by the Stockade bell. When tho
bell orders them to come forth, they corne
forth ; \vlien the bell orders them to retire,
they retire ; if they are L-ilking after retiring
to rest, aad the bcU rings for silence, they art
i
6-3
HOUSEIIOLD WORDS.
li«ifd no more. Thus, all sense of personal
tyraimicR, and all special aniraositice, arc
BToidcd ; tlic convicts ffcl thoy arc under
the spell of n sort of iron Cite, a doom with
ail iron tongue — they are subdued nnd sur-
rounded \>y an ever-vigilant and inflexible
system, and they submit in spite of their will
not to submit.
Mr. Harrow Iiaa been engngcd in this
anxious, painful, and unresting work these
twelve long years — first in Norfolk Island,
then in Van Diemen's Land, Bnally placed over
Ptnlridge Stockade, the htvad-quartcrs of all
the penal establishments of the colony. Of
all public officers, there is probably not one
whose duties arc so full of sleepless anxieties,
nnd so imperfectly appreciatwl (partly be-
cause they are but little known), as those he
performs with such rigid constancy.
I have taken a stroll round the outskirt-S
of the Stockade, and, while gazing over the
swampy fields, now wearing the green tints
of the fresh grass of winter which is near at
bund, and thence turning my gaze to the
bush in the distance, with its uncouth nnd
lonely appearance, I hear the jingle of chains
to the left of where I am standing, and pre-
Bcntty I see winding round the road a gang
of cotivicts on their way to work at a bridge.
They are succeeded by another gang; and, at
the .same interval, by a third. I am instantly
and forcibly reminded of the string of con-
victs whom Don Quixote met and set at
liberty, driving away their guards, taking off
their fetters, and making them a noble
Bpcecli ; in return for which they ran off scoff-
ing and hooting, and saluting their deliverer
with a volley of stones. I never before felt
60 strongly the truthfulness of this scene.
Here arc a set of men who would have done
— and who would this very day do — the same
thing to any eccentric philanthropist in a
broad-brimmed hat who should set them free
and make tliem an address on liberty and
humanity. So true may fiction be in the
hands of genius.
Other convict establishments have been
•Ihidcd to, which consist of two smaller
stockades, and the hulks which are lying in
Hobson's Hay. The stockades being con-
ducted in the same manner as the one just
described, it will be unnecessary to particu-
larize them, but I at once accept Mr. Barrow's
obliging offer to take me on board the prison
ships. We mount his gig and drive off.
On the way to Melbourne, through the
bush, I ask many questions of the Supcriti-
tcndent^as to the growth of corn and cab-
bages — the latter, with other vegetables, being
expensive luxuries in Melbourne. I also ask
if the convict? can be trusted with er]ge tools,
out of sight of the guards, or tn sight? Is a
funeral of one of them at all a melancboly
Bight to the others? and go forth. To these
questions, I only receive raonosyllabic replies,
and often no reply; I half expect to get an
answer frota the distant bell, The Super-
intendent scarcely hears mc; bis mind is
away at Pentridge, or on board one of his
hulks. We pass through Melbourne, cross
the bridge, and moke our way along the
muddy road to Liardet's Beach. I am indis-
creet enough to ask u few more questions,
but the anxious and absorbed look of the
Superintendent shows me that ho is absent
from the gig, drive as well as he may, and I
give it up. We arrive at the beach, and put
off in the Government boat.
It is a long pull, xnd by no means a rery
lively one, for it is pretty clear that everybody
in the boat feels a certain sort of cloud over
his spirits from the serious business all are
upon ; but the sky is clear and bright, and I
am soon in quite as absent a .state as my friend
the Superintendent, though it is probable that
our thoughts are nut in the .same direction.
We first pull on board a. hulk, a new one,
to meet the rapidly increasing exigencies of
the gold fields, which is being " fitted up *' at
a convict ship. P'rom the magnitude and
strength of the wooden bars, rails, and battens^
one might imagine that it wa.s intended for
young elephajits, buffaloes, and wild boars.
But I am assured by one of tin.- wardens that
they arc not at all too strong. From tbia
we row away to the prison ship for s&ilors —
not convicts, but refractory. This word re-
fiiiclory includes all tbe otfenecs of running
away to the gold fields on the very first chance
after the vessel drops her anchor in the bay,
or of refusing their duty, or otherwise mis-
conducting themselves while on board, witk
a view to distracting and overthrowing all
arrangements for a iiK>st didicult port, and
escaping in the confusion. To this hulk many
captains of vessels have been obliged to send
half their crews as soon as tbt-y have entered
the harbour, and several have even adopted
the more resolute plan of sending the whdil
crew off to prison at once, on the first sboV
of insubordination, and keeping them there,
From the refractory, would-be gold-digging
sailors' jtrison we push off for Williaiui'
Town, and land rear the light-house, at *
little boat-pier of loose stones now in course
of erection by a gang of convicts sent n-'
for the purpoise, Cfuards with loaded 111 i
patrol on the outskirts. It is a most i.
work, and the e-xtrcmity towards the water
being made circular, for a small salutioj
battery, may serve to salute in another w(
if there should ever be need. We pass
the pier to other works. of building, drains^
and so on, all performed by convict labour
Mr. Barrow attending to his duties, and lea'
me to stroll aliout and observe what I
and judge for myself. To sinn up all this
two words, I cannot perceive that the
Ticts have one spark of manly shame at tli
position ; but I do most certainly observe tl
without any hard words from the ovci
or the least personal violence (which w(
not for B moment be allowed), they <lo twics
as miicb work in an hour as double titm
Cb*ilM Okk«ai.l
CONVICTS IN THE GOLD REGIONS.
53
number of free Government labourers get
through in ft day. The chief reason seems to
me to be that the conricts are thinking of
their work aa an agreeable relief after solitary
confinement, and are glad to use their limbs ;
whereas the free labourers are thinking of the
gold fields, and how to get ten shillings a di»y
for doing nothing, until they are able to be otf
to the digging!!.
The Superintendent now rejoins me, and
carrj-ing me along with him at a brisk pace,
informs me tliat we are going on board the
President, his principal convict hulk. This
prison-ship contains the worst of the worst —
men who cannot b« trusted to work at any-
thing — who pass their time in solilury con-
finement and in irons, excepting an hour's
exercise on deck, when they are also hand-
cuffed together — m- '' " ' "'Ui the Stockade
of Pcntridge is nc'i ly protection —
"ihecrcruedela CI' ■:■■ , ■■'•■ lUrrowsays, "of
the prisotis of the mother country and her
Australian colonies."
We ascend to the deck, where the vessel,
a Utile in front of the gangway, is separated
by inassire iron bars of some ten or eleven
feet high from tlie rest of the ship. The Su-
perintendent leaves me, as before, to attend
to bis dutii'S of inspection, 4c., hut the chief
officer in command (whose name I am rather
uncomfortably startled at finding to be the
same as my own) places me in charge of one of
the head wartlcna, to accompany me where I
wish to go. Of course I at once express a
dceirc to pass through the great iron bars of
this terrible cage, and to go below and see the
Ctime di hi erim«.
We enter, and descend the ladder to the
main-deck. There is very little to be seen of a
kind to make a picture, or a bit of description
— -in fact, nothing — all is in a state of severe,
quiet, onlerly, massive siinplicily. The niiiin
deck is reduced (o a passage, with rows of
ccUs of immense strength on each side. The
name of the occupant of the cell is written on
a placard outa-i'k — with his crime, and the
number of years fur which he is sentenced.
The great majority of otfenees are robbery
with violence, and the tenu of imprisonment
Tarics from five to twenty years. As I read
I cannot ny I at all envy the snug berth of
my namesake in command. I feel that I
would tar rather be the Wandering Jew, or
the captain of the Flying Dutchman. The
cells arc very like clean dens for wild beasts
— their huge solid timbers and ironwork
being quite strong enough for lions and tigers,
bears and rhinoceroses, but not more so than
neoesury — so strong, so wilful, so resolute,
and so unconquerable is man in his In.st stage
of depravity. I express a desire to have the
door opened of a certain cell, where the jilacarti
outside exerci.se.s a grim attraction upon me ;
but the warden at n)y side informs ine tliat the
convicts here arc all under prolonged puni.sh-
ment, and my namesake docs not con.sidcr it
right to make a show of them. " Oh, indeed],"
I say — •" very proper." — " Not," adds th#
warden, '* that it would hurt iheir feelings in
any way ; they are always too glad of any
opportunity of having the door opened. Wo
do not open it even at meal times ; we push
their allowance through a trap with a slide,
«4»ich is instantly clojied .tgaiu and bolted." —
Wluit a life for all parties I
I hear some of the prisoners singing in a
low voice, ajid others holding a conversation
between their partitions of four or five inch&a
thick. To avoid some of the mental evila
of long solitary confinement, they are wisely
aind humanely permitted to do this, provided
no noise is made, or any loud tones audible.
In an equally wise spirit Mr. Barrow has
arranged a kind of prospect of amelioration ;
a degree of hope, well founded, however re-
mote, is open to all. A certain number of
years of good conduct here, gives the vilest
ruRinn of former times a fair prospect of re-
moval to one of the Stockades; a certain
number of years of good conduct there, gives
him the probability of further promotion :
namely, to work at some trade, or to go at
large as a house servant and to attend in the
yards; while, as a final result of ni.any years
of good conduct, he gets his ticket of leave to
go where he pleases in the colony. .Many do
really reform, and lead decent lives thence-
forth ; some rush away to the gold fields —
not to dig, but to jilundcr — and are back
again heavily ironed, on hoard this dreadful
prison-ship, in less than three months. Tha
fresh term of punishment in these final of
all final cases is twenty, or even thirty years.
I inquire if they sink into utter hopeless de-
spondency in such cases. " No ; only for tho
first week or two. After that they are again
scheming, and plotting, and looking forward
to some chance of escape."
I hear a regular tramp going round over-
hiwMl, accompanied by a jingling of chains.
The warden iriforius iiic that ten of the con-
victs arc now on deck for an hour's exercise.
Only ten at a lime are ever allowed to be out
of tlieir cells, none of these being cvcrtru.sted
to go ashore to work, or to work at anything
on board. I inmjcdiatcly go upon deck to have
one look at the Superintendent's erinu da la
crime.
The ten men arc all atlired in the pepper-
and-salt convict dress, with irons on their legs,
and handcuffed toguthtr, two and two, as they
walk round and round the main hatchway.
I make no pretence of not looking at them ;
and they make none as to nie. There is
nothing violent or ferocious in the appearance
of any of them ; the predominating iinpre»-
sion they convey is that of brutal ignorance,
grossness, and utter absence of the sense of
shame. The one who has most sense in his
countenance is a dark, quiet, determined,
patient villain, cqii.il to any atrocity or daring,
Ilis look, as he comes round and faces tne,
never changes; most of the rest have some
ulight fluctuations. Presently they begin to
r)4
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
tOM4«1«4 t;
whisper each other ; and one makes a remark
and passes it on ; iind preseiilly they begin to
cxchnngo jokes, and indulge in a high degree
of Moisvless merriment at their own obser-
Tution. spcruktions, and conimentp, until it
becomes quite apparent that 1 am getting the
worst of it. I retire with a modest uncon-
scious air, wliich seems to delight them
immensely.
Ironed, barricaded, and guarded, as these
men are, they sometimes attempt an escape,
though without success. Their t'hkf hope
often turns upor> bribing one of the wardens;
for these prisoners — settled for life as they
may be — have really the means of bribing.
Most of them have gold in MelViourne in care
of a friend, or in tho banks, or secreted at
gome of the diggings,
THE MERCII.\NrS HE.VRT.
^^ATTnIAR, the Levantine merchant, had
spent bis whole life, from his boy-time
upwjtrd, in travelling for the sake of gain, lo
the l^Jisl and to the West, arid to the islands of
the South Sea-s. IFe hnd rtttirned to his native
place, Tarsus, in the full vigour of manhood,
and wu-s reported to have am.ossed great
we.nlth. His (irst ,ttep was to make n prudent
call upon the governor, and to present him
with a purse ami a string of pearls, in order
to hfspeok his gooil-will. He then built him-
self a spacious palace in the midst of a garden
on the borders of a stream, and began to lead
a quiet life, resting nfler the fatigues of his
many voyages. Most persons considered him
to be the limppiest of merchants; but these
who wiTC iiitroiliiced to his intiniacj' knew
that his constant companions were thought
and e,idness. When he had departed in his
youtli, he had left his father, and his mother,
and his brothers, and his sisters in health,
although poor; but, when lie rettimed in
hopes to gild the remainder of their days,
he found that the hand of death had fallen
upon them every one, and that there was no
one to .share his prosperity: and a blight
came over his heart.
Thcgo.«si[isin tire bazaars soon hetran to talk
of his case, and it was then that Ilntina the
Chrintiun tiilor one day said in a loud voice
to his opposku neighbour the Jewish money-
chaiigtr, " I will Jay the value of my stock
that tUti mercbnnt .Matthias will find cotiso-
ktinn in matTiage ; that ho will choose the
most bcamiful of our maidens ; and that he
wilt found a family which shall be cehbrated
in this city as long as its prosperity endures."
To I' -s the Jew replied: "What is the value
of thy stock? Three j.iekets returned upon
Ihy hands, a rusty pairof scissors, nn «lil stool,
and some bundtes of thread? Vtrily the risk
is not great." The Chri.sltnn said a prayer or
two to himself, that he might not curse his
neighbour, and then answered : " I will
throw in Zarifeh, the ebony-black girl whom
I bought lost spring lo foUow my wife whea
8hc goes out with the little Goi-gcs to the
gardens. What sayest thou now?"
The Jew pondered awhile, leaning his grey
beard on the breast of his caftan. Ho rc-
roeinbered that forty years before he, tx>, had
returned from travel with liis moiiev-bags,
and h.id found bis house desolate; and that
he had devoted himself ever since to nioody
reflection, and to the heaping of mahbow
upon mahbonb. The thought had therefore
beeomo fixed in his mind that when the middle
time of life comes, there can remain no affec-
tion in the heart, either of Christian, or of
Jew, or ofMuhijinrnadan, but for gold. So he
said: "Let the odds be equal. I will venture
tive hundred pieces against thy five bundled
pieces, that within five years the merchant
Matthias docs not take to his bosom a wife."
" Agreed I" cried the Christian. The neigh-
bours were called in as witnesBcs, and eveiy
one Iniighed at the absurdity of Uic dispute
Matthias was not long in learning thai i
wager bad been laid upon his future life ; and,
in passing through the bazaar, he stopped one
day and said sternly to the Christian l.iilor:
"Son of nishncss, why liasl thou risked more
than the whole of thy havings upon a matttT
wliich is only known to Ileaven? I hare
looked upon nil the maidens of my people,
and no emotion hasstiiTcd within me. Verjlj
thou wilt become a prey to tl^s Jew."
" My lord," replied the tailor, smiling, " it is
impossible for a good man to remain all his
life alone. If thou wilt come to my liouse anil
sec my wife and my little Gorges d.inciog in i
the arms of the ebon.y-black girl, Zarifeh, thou
wilt surely relent and si>ek at once to be as J
am. Perhaps thou bust not well looked aroua4
thee. There is .Miriam, the daughter of our
linker, who is of mnjestic presence, being K
big as thyself She will suit thee to a hair;
and, if thuu desire.st, my M'ifc shall mak '
proiposals for Ihec this nfternoon." MattI
laughed and frowned, and went on, and
Jew chuckling in his beaKl said : " O H
for bow much wilt thou ficc thyself from
wager? Wilt thou pay a hundred pieces
let all be said?" But the Christian ropMi
" In <5ve years Saint Philotea wore away '
stone a.s big a.s this stool with her ki.sses
her tears — iti five years the heart of thia
may melt."
Matthias went not on his way un
after his conversation with the Ch
tailor. He began to think tbrtt peri
indeed, he was wearing away his life use!
in solitude. There was certainlj- no be»i
and no satisfaction in that maimer of beii
It was belter lo take to himself a compani
Hut where find her? Amongst all the frivol
daughters of Tarsus, was there one ^vith wh
he would not be more lonely than with hi
Self? Tlidr mothers had taught thi
nothing hut love of dres.s, and love of tbi
selves. How could their capricious
selftsh natures find pleasure in commu
with a man whom this world hod £ore
^uUn [>i«kM»,]
THE IfERCIUNT'S HEART.
SS
And who wished to wait in meekness and in
patience for the world to come?
Thi>8c ine<litattoii3 disturbed Matthiai<, but
they ilitl not rtnderhini more unhappy. They
occu[iieil his mind ; they relieved the mono-
tony ef his cxisttuee ; ihey prevented hira
from always turning hia eyes inward upon
huuself ; they forced him to look nbroud. He
went to the bouses of his friemis and once
moTv iiludied the perfections or imperfections
of their daughters, ilis object wus so ranni-
feet, that the Joke went round t int he wished
to saive the Christian tailor from ruin. People
jested with the Jew as they brought in their
XDuney m change. But although Mntthius
saw many hcnutiful girls who threw the
glances of their .'dmond-shaped eyes eiicoa-
ragingly toward? him, he saw none that pleaf^ed
his hi.-art ; and suddenly retiring from society,
shut himself up for u whole year in hi^ palace,
J9c<|p ' ....t....1y, and taking back melancholy
ail III for his only companions.
.\ ' , ; -MatthLos began to feel the desire
of change, and made it a practice every luorn-
ing to have his mule saddled and to ride out to
the btt'^eof the mountains; and, tlien putlitij;
ftx)l to ground to wander until evening
Miiidsl (he rooks and valleys. On one occasion
he went so far that ho could not return to
where ho liiid lefl his mule and servant before
niglK-fiill, and lost his way. After going
hither and thither for some lime, ho was cotn-
pelkd to Hut'k the 8helti.-r of a caw, anil to
wait until uioming. Sleep overtook him, and
he did not wake until the sun's ray.*, shiiidng
in through the deft of the rock, played upon
his cyc-Iids. lie got up ; and, having said
his praytTK, went forth and behcM a beautiful
green meadow stretching along the banks of
a stream which catne from a narrow gorge
at no great distance. lie did not recognise
his whereabouts and was doubtful of hnding
his way luK'k, until he saw, at the further
end of the meadow, some object moving
npidly to and fro. It was a young girl
chasing a row that had escaped front her, and
nui with :i cord tjmpled aliout his horns in
the (Urer1i<in of Matthi.is. " Ah !" said lie, " I
will catch this unruly niiimal, and then make
iti keeper point out to me the direction of
Tar.aug." So he tucked up his robes ; and,
being «lnjng and vigorous, soon came up to
the row tlial was wantonl}- galloping hitlver
and thither, und brought it to a Kt;in(l-still.
" May blessings light upon thy sturdy arms,
strang'.T," excliurncd the girl, running \ip
out of brcalli, and unwinding the rope
from the cow's horns ; " If Naharah had
eacapcd the)' would have beaten me."
" .\nd who could find it in his heart lo beat
theo, child ?" ^iuFil the merchant, as he looked
at her and woMdered at her delicate lovclines.s.
" The fatlurs,"8he rvplicd, pulling Nahanih
in the direction she wanted to go. "Triple
blessings upon thee, igain I sty, stranger!"
Matthias forgot «ll aliout Tarsus, and
Vkiko i by the side of the girl, asking ques-
tions of her. He learned that she was the
bond-maiden of a monastery situated in those
mountains, and that her duty was to take out
the cows, Biid especially this one, every morn-
ing to the pa.stiirage. " Do not follow me,"
.said she, when they came to tlic entrance of
th» giirgc from which the stream flowed ;
" for I am forbidden to talk with those whom
I may meet" Matthias thought awhile, and
then l»ade her adieu, having learned what
path he was to follow, and returned to bis
palace full of nothing but the image of this
simple bond-maiden.
" Verily." sjiid he to himself next morning,
" I forgot to nak the name of that girl. I
mu.st Icani it, in order that I may send her a
recompeii.se." Under this poor pretence ho
mountcil his mule and rode towards the
mountains, and began his walk at the usual
place, onil repaired to the cave and pas.<!(Hl
the night there, and was out on the meadow
before dawn, lie soon saw four or five cows
driven out of the gorge, and the girl follow-
ing them, leading the frolicsome N.iharah.
" There is no need for thee to-day, stranger,"
.said she smiling playfully, " tmless thou wilt
drive my herd down to the water to drink,
and take care that the black one gcx-a in first,
or else she will gore the others." Upon this,
Malthias took the branch of a tree nnd began
to cry, " Jlool boo I" like a heriLsnian, and lo
heat the lianks of the blni;k cow, which
scnnii>ercd away, and Icrl liim a long ch-ise
round the meadow ; so Jhat Iw did not come
back until all the other anininls hitd taken
their morning drink, and the girl vfim sitting
on the bank laughing at him, and wreathing
a crown of flowers to deck the horns of
Naharah.
" Thou dost not know thy now business,"
said she, to Matthias, as he came up out of
breath ; whereupon he began to curse the
cow whicii had led hiui that dance, and to
think that he had nia<I>< himself ridiculous
ill the eyes of the girl. However, they were
soon .silting side by side in pleasant talk, and
the mercliant Icariu'd that the name of the
bond-maiden was Carino.
lly this time he had quite made up \m mind
to tnarry her if she would have him ; but,
although relieeting upon his wealth and her
poverty, it seemed scarcely probable that she
should refuse, his modesty was eo gre;il tiiat
he dared not ventnro to t^dk of love. They
parted early, snrl Matthias went away, pro-
mising to return on the mtirrow. He did so ;
and fornvnny weeks continued these meetings
in wliii'h, for the lirst time since his youth, he
found r«-:il biiiipiness. At length, one day he
took coinage, and told Garine that he intended
lo take her away and marry her, nnd make
her the niislress <if his wealth. " My lord,"
said she, with simple surprise, " has madness
stricken thee? Dost thou not know that lam
a bond -maiden, and that there is no power
that can free me ?"
" Money can free thee, child," said Malthi'i*-
I
1
^
&6
HODSEHOLD WORDS.
[C»4mM ty
" Not 80 ;" replied she, " for it is an ancient
privilege of this monastery that bondsmen
and bondswomL-n shall for over appertain to
it If any freeman casts his eyes upon one of
us, and desires to marry her, he must quit
his stfttc and become a slave, he and his de-
scendant'; for ever, to the monnstery. This
is why I was not married last year to
Skandar, the porker, who offered twenty pigs
for ii:y freedom, but who refused to give up
his liberty." Matthias internally thanked
Heaven for havinf^ given an independent
spirit to the jiorker, and replied, smilinp,
"Believe nie, Carine, that tlie fatliers love
money — they all do — and I shall purchase
tliee as my wife."
" It is nonsense," said she, shaking her
head, " ttiey refused twenty pigs."
" i will give twent}' sacks of gold, baby,"
cried Matthias, enraged at her obstinacy.
Carine replied, that she was not worth
so much ; and that, if she were, it was of
no use talking of the matter, for the fathers
would not sell her. " By Saint Maron !''
exclaimed Matthias, " I can buy their whole
monastery."
lie was mistaken. The monastery of Se-
lafkii was the richest in ail the East, and the
bead of it was the most self-willed of men. He
cut short the propositions uf tiie merchant —
who went straight to him that very day — by
saying that on no account could the liberty of
Carine he granted. " If thou wouldst marry
her," said he, looking, as Miittliiajj thought,
more wicked than a (lemon, " thou must give
up all thy wealth (<> us, and become our
bondsman." \S'ith this answer the lover went
sadly away, and returned to Tarsus, saying to
himself, " It is impossible for tue to give up,
not only the gavus of all ray life, but even my
liberty, for the sake of thiscow-girL I must
try to' forget her."
So he went back among his friends, and
began again to walk in the bazaars.
When the Jew saw him, he cried out, " Hail,
oh wise man, that will not burthen him-
self with the society of a woman 1" But
the mercliant frowned black upon hira, and
turned away ; and, to the surprise of all
the neighbours, went and sat down by the
side of the Christian tailor, and, taking his
hand, whispered to him ; " Close thy shop,
my friend, and load me, that I may see,
as thou didst promise, thy wife and thy
child."
" Which child V said the tailor. " I have
now three. Gorges, Lisbet, and Ilanna."
"All of them," said Matthias: "and also
the eljony-black girl, Zarifeh."
" Oh !" «aid the tailor, " I have set her
free, and she is married to the pudding-seller,
round the corner."
" It seems," said Matthias to himself, " that
it is the law of Heaven that every cue shall
marry."
The tailor shut up his shop and took the
merchant home and showed him his domestic
wealth ; — that is to say, his pretty wife, hia
three stout children, and a coal-black girl
called Zara, who was kneading dough in the
court-yard " My friend," said Matthiaa,
" what would.st thou do if the powerful were
to say to thee, thou must be deprived of all
this, or else lose thy liberty and become a
slave."
" Liberty is sweet," replied the tailor, shm^
ging his shoulders ; " yet some live without
it ; but none can live without love."
Upon this the merchant went back to hia
palace and mounted his mule and rode to the
monastery, where he found the court-yard full
of people. "I am come," said he to one of
the fathers whom he met in the gateway,
" to give up my liberty and my wealth for the
sake of Carine."
" It is too late," wa.«i the reply ; Skandar,
the porker, has just driven in all his pigs, and
they are putting the chain upon his neck ia
the chapel, and all these pfojile that thou
seest collected are to be witnesses of bis
marriage with Carine."
Mattliias smote his breast with his hand&
and the sides of his mule with his heels, and
galloped through the crowd shouting out
that nobody should be made a slave that day
bat he. The chief of the monastery, on
learning what was the matter, smiled' and
said, '* that the porker had a previous claim ;"
but the monks, who, perhaps, looked forward
to the enjoyments which the merchant's
wealth would afford them, ingeniously sug-
gested that he had the best claim who had
hesitated least. Carine's opinion was asked;
and she, seeing both of her suitors resolved,
heartlessly condemned the cnntnourcd porker
to liberty, and said : " Let the chain be put
upon the neck of the merchant." The cere-
mony was immedintely performed ; and, whilst
the head of the convent was )ireparing to
begin the more interesting rite of the mar-
ringe, brother Boag, the treasurer of the
monastery, sctotf to take an inventory of the
wealth which had just fallen under fail
jurisdiction.
It is said that Matthias never gave a
single thought to hi.? lost property, being
too much absorlied in contemplating the
charms of the beautiful Carine. The onlf
.stiplilatioh he made was, that ho should he
allowed to go out to the pasturages with
her ; and, next morning he found himself
in sober seriousness helping to drive Naharth
and its companions down to the water's
side.
Meanwhile the Governor of Tarsus heaid
what had happened to Matthia.s, and was
stricken with rage, and caused his mule to be
saddled and his guards to be mounted, and
set forth to the monastery and summoned the
chief, s.«iyirig, " Know, Monk, that Matthias
is my friend ; and it cannot be that ho shall
he thy slave, and that all his wealth shall be
transferred from my city to thy monastery.
He is a liberal citizen, and I may not lose hia
^
NOTHING LIKE LEATHER.
^
from sinoDgst us." Tho Qovemor spoke thus
liy reason of certain loans n-itliout interest
anil presents (over and above tiio jmrso and
the string of pearls which tho merchttnt had
privst-nied at his first coming), wiili which
Matthias had froelj obliged the tJuvornor:
who also hoped a continuance of ttio same.
Whereupon the chief of the monastery hid
his hands and vras humbled ; and thu Go-
vernor and he parted witli a good under-
stan'iiog nod agroement.
It fell out, therefore, that afler a month of
acrvitudo ilatthias and his bride were called
before on assembly of the whole monastery,
and informed that the conditions imposed
were simply for the sake of triaL Nearly a!l
the wealth of the merchant was restoretl to
him, and he wa-s liberated and led back amidst
applatuling crowtls to his palacB at Tarsus.
Of course he made a liberal donation to the
monastery, over and above a round sum which
Boag tl>e trciuwrer had not found it in his
heart to return with the rest Uciug a just
and generous man, he not only relieved the Jew
from the conscqoences of his wager, b\it nuwle
such presents to the Christian tailor, that he
had no longer any need to ply the needle for
his liri-libocHJ. Imdition dilates with delight
on the happiness which Carine bestowed on
her husband ; who used always to s-ny, " that
with wealth or without wealth, with lilieriy
or without hberty, she was suHicicnt to bring
content irtto auy house, and to make the
fltcrnuitt heart happy."
NOTHING LIKE LEATlIEa
It is time that Leather — the tough old
veteran whose fame extends far and wide
. — shiiuld look to his laurels, He is from
time to time attacked by a number of annoy-
ing anta^ionists, who saucily threaten to
" put him down." Once it is Papier M.iche,
a conglomc-rated paste-like stripling, who
claims a toughness and lightne.s.<i of his own,
without the solid consistency of Leather. At
another lime it is young Carton Pierre, a
native of France, who presents a substance
built up of paper and plaster. But the veteran
has lud more formidable attjtcks from two
other interlopers — Mecr India Rubber and
Shah Gutta Percha ; these boast so nmch of
their ebiatieity, their toughness, their inde-
structibility, and every other corporeal and
corpuscular excellence, that Leather has had
as much a^ he can do to maintain his ground
a^inst them. It is well, therefore, to know,
that tougii old Leather does not mean to give
up the contest. He will fight his battle yet,
and shows a disposition to carry the contest
into tlic enemy's country. Already we Hud
ladies making leather picture frames and
leather adornments of various kinds for their
apartmeuts ; and we perceive that salo<)ns
and gallcnes are onco again, as in times of
yore, exhibiting leather tapestries. We find,
too, architects aud docoratora acknowledging
that leather may bo accepted as a titling and
graceful means of embellishment in many
caiKB where carved wood would otherwise be
used,
A leather tapestry is not a curtain hanging
loose, like the airas or Gobelin hangings ; but
it ia stretched on canvas, and made to Ibnn
the panels of a room ; the stiles or raised
portions being of oak or some other kind of
wood. Such was generally the case in the old
leather tapestries, and such it is in those
now produced ; but tho mode of use is sus-
ceptible of much variation; since the gilding,
and stamping, and painting of the leatlier
arc independent of the mode of lising. These
tough old garments, to keep ih^^ralls warrei,
were known in early times to aU extent which
we now little dream of.
Aa a wall-covering, leather presents great
advantages j not only from its durability and
its power of resisting damp, but from its
facility of being embossed, the ease with
which it receives gold, silver, and coloured
decoration, and the scope it alTords for intro-
ducing landsca[ics, arabesques, emblazon-
ments, or other painted devices. All these
properties were known l«;fore decorators had
been startled by tho novelties of Carton
Pierre, Papier Mich% and Gutta Percha.
Continental countries were more rich in these
productions than England. In tUo Alliara-
bra, the Court of thu Lions .still presents,
if wo mistake nut, the same leather hangings
which were put up tliere si.\ centuries ago.
The great Flemish towns — Lille, Urussels,
Antwerp, and Mechlin — were all fiimous for
producing these hangings ; those from the
last-named town were especially remarkable
for their beauty. Eighty years ago the
French manufacturers complained that,
however excellent their gilt and emboesed
leather might be, the Parisians were wont to
nm after those of Flanders; just as Worcester
glove-makers in our day deprecate the wear-
ing of French gloves by true-born Britons.
There were, nevertheless, fine specimens pro
duccd at Paris and Lyons ; and there were
one or two cities in Italy aUn, in which tho
art was practised. Many old mansions in
England have wherewithal to show that
leather hangings of great beauty were pro-
duced in this country in tho old time. Blen-
heim, the scat of tho Dukes of Marlborough,
is one of tho places at which these English
leathers are to be found. At Eastham manof
house, in Essex, built by Henry the Eligbth,
there were leather tapestries of great sump-
tuousncss, covered with such largo ciuaatitics
of gold, that they realised a considerable
sum when sold half a century ago, by a pro-
prietor who cared more for coined gold than
for art- It is curious to note that tiie writer
of an old French treatise on this art, acknow-
ledges the superior skill of the Englishmen
engaged in it, and laments that hiscouiilnrmcn
cannot maintain an even position with them
in the market Thus thu English leather
68
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
*[CiiodMMI bf
ttpestrics must have been, at one time, ex-
cellent.
'J'lie leather required for these purpcscs
unili.Tgoes a process of tanning and currying,
dilfiTing from that to which leather for other
purposes is subjected. The old French leather
jrililers about the times of I^uis the Four-
toonth and Fifteenth generally employed
slu>ep-leather ; but sometimes calf and lamb-
ski ns. The last two were better, but the first
w:i-< the cheapest. The dry skins of leather
Will! soaked in water, to mollify them ; they
\\\ic> then vigorously pommelled, to give
(Ik'mi suppleness. The leather was laid upon
II M.it stone, and scraped and scraped until its
\\ riiikk'S were removed — not filled np, as with
til • cosmetic of the wrinkled dowagers of the
(ill school — but fairly and honestly scraped
out of existence. There was a stretching
prcx'i'ss effected at the same time, whereby
the- k'athcr became somewhat lengthened and
\\'iclened at the expense of its thickness. As
it is the fate of many skins to have defective
])liicos, the workmen showed a nice skill in
triiuniing the margin of the hole or defective
spot, and pasting or glueing a little fragment
of k-alher so neatly over it so as to form an
ill vi.-ible joint. When the leather was thus far
n.lvanoi'd, it was covered with leaf silver ; for
it appears that, in those days, gilt leather was
Hot (;ilt leather; it was silvered leather
Ii'ipivrcfl to a golden hue. The silverer
ni!)l)c(l a little bit of parchment size over the
i'-atiicr with his hand ; and while this was 3'et
i;i a sticky or tactile state, he applied ui)0n it
li.-avi-s of very thin beaten silver — not attenu-
ati'il to so extraordinary a degree as leaf-gold,
but still very thin. IThcso leaves were, as
applied side by side on the leather, pressed
doun by a fox's tail rolled into a sort of little
mop ; and the leather w.is exposed to air and
sunshine until dry. This lacquer was a mys-
terious mixture of resin, aloes, gum 8.andarach,
litharge, red lead, and linseed oil, brown in
colour, but assuming a golden hue when
backed by a silvery substance. The lacquer,
like a thick syrup, was laid on by the hand,
as the best possiblo lacquering brush;
and, after two or three applications, the
Iac<iiiL'red silver leather was drie<l in open
air. Sometimes the leather was coated with
loaf-copper, instead of leaf-silver; and in that
case the lacquer was required to be of a dif-
f'Tcnt kind to produce the desired gold hue.
'I'luu came the artistic work, the employ-
lU'.'nt of design as an mlomment Wood
blocks were engraved, much in the same way
as for the printing of iloor-cloths and paper-
lia:iuiii.p4 — with this variation, that the
cavities or cut otit portions constituted the
<U-si:_'n, instead of the uncut parts of the
orij;iiial surface. The dcagn was printed on
till! silvere<l Uathcr by an ordinary ]>res.s,
with the aid of a counter mould, if the relief
were required to be higher than usual ;
the leather being previously moistened on
tiic uaJer surface to facilitate the pressing.
There was thus produced a uniform goldca
or silver surface, varied only by a stampc<!
or relievo pattern ; but occasionally th*
design was afterwards picked out wit^i
colour.
The advocates for the use of gilt and em-
bossed leather tapestries have a fonnidabh
list of good things to say in their favour.
They assert, in the first place, that leather
bents wool in its power of resisting damp and
insects — whether the light-minded moths of
the summer months, or the dull-souled creep-
ing things which have a tendency to lay their
cg^ in woolly substances. They assert, also,
that well-prepared gilt leather will preserve
its splendour for a great length of time. And,
lastly, that a soft sponge and a little water
furnish an easy mode of cleansing the sur-
face, and keeping it bright and clear. These
various good qualities have induced one or
two firms in England and in France to
attempt the rcvivid of leather tapestriea It
has been up-hill work to induce decorators
and connoisseurs to depart from the beaten
track, and adopt the old-new-material ; but it
has taken root; it is growing; and many
sumptuous specimens are finding their way
into the houses of the wealthy. The ducal
mansions of the Norfolks and the Suthei^
lands, the Hamiltons and the Wellingtons,
the Devonshires, the Somersets, and otiier
brave names, have something to show in this
way ; and royalty has not been slow to take
part in the matter. The English reviren
adopt, we believe, many of those described is
having been followed by the old French work-
men, but with various improvements; among
others, they use gold-leaf instead of lacqucnd
silver-leaf — a very proper reform in these
California day.s.
The relief on the leather tapestries is THy
low or slight, but by deepening the engiraving
or embossment of the stamps, it can be made
much more bold. It thus arises that leatheit
become available for a great variety of orna-
mental jjurpose,", varying from absolnte
plainness of surface to very bold rcliet Tlmi
we hear of the employment of adOTncd
leather for folding-screens, for cornices tai
frames, for pendents and flower-bordera, ftr
panellings, for relief ornaments to dom
pilasters, shutters, architraves, friezes, anl
ceilings; for chimney pieces, for suljeet-
panels, for arabesques and patcras ; for moin^
inffs in imitation of carvings; for decoratioef
to wine-coolers, dinner- waggons, tabloR, chains
pole-screens, and cheval scri'ens ; for bindiniA
cases, and cabinets of various kinds; liir
clock-cases .and brackets, for consoles and
caryatide.s, for decorations in ships* cabins
steamboat saloons, railway can-iages — but m
must stop.
Some such things as thegc were prodoeed
in the old times; but more can now l»
effected. Pneumatic and hj'draiilic prciwnn
are now brought into play. Without dMi^
into the mysteries of the workman's sanctai%
f
OtokML]
NOTHING LIKE LEATHER.
S9
wo believe thnt the leather is firgt brou^rht,
by »n applicniion of 6tc«in, to the statu of x
tniigh pulpy rnalcnal, ready to assuiiieany one
of B ihousiiiid nietainorphoscs. The cU-fiipn has
beo prcTiously prepared ; nnd from this a
mo ..i\ is cnpnivoii or c^^ in a peculiar mixed
mctiil w'ni(-h iriij not diseoior the k-ather. The
K-ftth«r is forced into tlic mould by a gradual
»pp5i.;Uion of pressure, partly hydraulic and
partly pneumatic, so tempered as to enable
llie li.Mtlitr ti^mnfomi to the physical foree,
the pr<-ssur6^Bp without, without breakage
or [terforatioir The leather, when once
removed from the mould, retains its new
form while dryinfr, and can then cither be
kept in its honest unsophisticated leathery
condition, or can be brought by paint or gold
to any dtsired ilegrve of splendour.
No one can conetivi' — without actual
insjKJction — that such l>oUl relief coulfi be
produced in Iciilher. Not only is thus in
some speciuicns so bold as to be fully half
round, but there is even the backxrard curve
to imitate the under-cut of carving : this
could only be obtained by mcnns of the
rcinarkahle combination of elasticity and
tougrhnojM in leather. Some of the recent
proihictions, in lc5s bold relief, display a very
hijrh degree of artistic beauty. Her Majesty
and the Royal Consort, a few years afro,
jointly sketched a desig:n for a eatiinet, of
which the whole of the decorations were to
be of leather ; thiii has been completed ; the
dlmen.sions arc nine feet by seven ; tlie
dtyle is Renaissance, and the ornanu'ntation
is most elaborate ; two of the panels are
OcciipiiMl by bas-reliefs, in which the figures
•re represented with nearly as much beauty
of detail as if carrcd— ftnd yet all Is done
in stamped leather.
In all these articles formed in leather, to
break Ihera is nearly out of the question ;
to cut them is nnt particularly ea-sy ; to
destroy thera in any way would seem to
require the Terj- pervvrsity of ingenuity.
To be sure, if a leather biis-rolicf were
M»k'-il in water for some hours, and then
knofkvd about, it would receive a per-
manent disfljn'rement. But so would a man's
foeo. Whereas if the Boakins were not
follovrcd by the thrashing, both the leather
relievo and the man's face would retiin
their proper forms. j\( nny rate, a leathern
ornament is one of the tonj;hest and strongest
productions which could be named. Occu-
pying, as it does, a midway position in
expense between carved womi and Tarions
stamped and e*,st materials, leather has
a sphere of usefulness to till dependent on
it* qualities relative to those of its anta-
g:oni8tR
I^eather flower-making is becoming an
occasional resource for industrious ladies.
And a very ^ood resource, too. AVhy should
croohot and embroidery continue to reign
without a rival f It i» so very pleasant to
make on li- Macassars and slippers and coUars
and furniture covering, that no new employ-
ment for spare half hours need he song;1it? tf
a lady sho\ild deem it unplea.sant to have to
deal with little bits of damp leather, l<t her
remember that there is a grt-at scopu for the
display of tas^te — always an important tnattor,
whether in business or in pleasure. AVhcu
we mention picture- frames, we must be under-
stood as referring to their ornamental deco-
rations only. A carpenter or a frame-maker
propart's a flat deal frame, with neither
mouldings nor adornments ; the fair artist
covers this with leather ornaments, and then
paints the whole to imitate ancient oak, or
in any other way which her tii.stu may
dictate. The prepamtioti of tlie ornament
depends on this fact — that leather can bo
brought into almost any desired form while
wet, and will retain th.it fonu when dry.
The leather (a piece of common sheepskin
will suffice) is cut with .seis.sors or sharp
knives into little pieces, shaped like leaves,
staiki?, tendrils, fruit, petjils, or any other
simple object ; and these pieces are curved,
and pressed, and grooved, and marked, ami
wrinklc<l, until they assume the required
form. It is not dilticult to we how, with a
lew small modelling-tools of bone or hard
wooil, iill this may bo dune. And when done,
the little pieces are left to dry ; and when
dry, they are tucked or paste*! on the frame ;
imd when tacked or pa.sted, th«'y are finished
just as the ornate taste of the lady-worker
may sngjrest. If a pieture-li-ame may be
thus adorned, .so may a screen, a chimney
ornament — anything, almost, which you may
ptea,se.
If we mistake not, the leather-embossers
have liegim to sell the simple tools, and to
give the simple instructions, requisite for the
practice f>f this pretty art But whether
this be so or not, a tasteful woman can easily
work otit the requisite knowledge for hersoif.
Our ladv reailcrs, however, need not he left
wholly to their own resources in the practice
of this ai-t M.idamc de t^onde, in her little
shillin;^ essay on the leather imitation of
old onk carving, tells us all about it She
instructs us how to select the Vjasil or sheep-
skin, how to provide a store of cardboard,
wire, moul'ling instruments, glue, asphaltum,
onk stain, nniber, varnish, brushes, and the
other working tackle ; how to take patterns
from Icrtvrs in canlbonrd ; how to cut the
leather from the ctmlbonnl patterns ; how to
mark the fibres or veins with a blunt point;
how to pinch u|) the leather leaf in imitation
of Nature's own leaf; how to make .stems by
strips of leather wrapped round copuer wire ;
howto imitate roses, chrysanthcmun.s, daisies,
china-asters, fnch.sias, and other flowers, ■'
snft bits of leather crumpled up into f^6
form ; how to imitate grapes, l>y wrai""?
up peas or beans in bits of old l''''"^ j.T*" '►
how to obtain relief ornaments by f^^'lhng
soft leather on a wo(vlen foundatin'i "ow to
affix aU these dainty devices to r»"PI^'"'"»g
=7^
i
60
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
ICnilacIra ^
framework ; and how to colour and vamish
the whole. These items of wisdom are all
duly set fortlu
LIFE AND DEATH.
" What is Life, Father !"
" A Battle, mj child,
WherQ the strongest lance may hW,
Where the wariest eyes m»y be bewailed,
And the RtontcKl heart mny quail.
Where Iho foos are (irnthcred on every hand,
And rest not dny nor Tiight,
AnJ the feeble little onct mnst stand
In the ihiekcsl of the fighl."
" Whnt in De«th, Father f"
" The rest, ray child,
When the »trife and the toil are o'or,
And the angel of God, who, culm and mild,
Sayn wo need fixlit no more ;
Who drivolh away the demon band,
Bida the din of the buttle eea-^o ;
Takes the hnRner anil fipenr rrtimonrfitilinghand,
And proclaims aa eternal Peace."
"Let me die, Father I I tremble. I fear
To yield in that terrible strife I"
" The crown must be won for Ileaven, dear,
In the bnttle-flcUl of life ;
Mv child, ihongh thy focsi are titrong and tried,
lie loveth the weak and dinall ;
The AnfoU of Heaven are on thy side,
And Qod is over all 1"
THE GREAT INDIAN BEAN-STALK.
Tnis bean-stalk, by which many very
8TDa)l ftdvfntnrcrs Imve climbed to wealth,
fiourishcs umler the vice-regal Fway of the
nonoarabic Ea.it India Company, where a
costly staff of Europi-an otliciat.s is ,<iip-
po.scd, by s pleasant fiction of the Cove-
nanted Service, to administer jiiisticc to the
hundred millions of worthy Briti.sh subjpcis
inhabiting those wide-spreading eountrie.'*.
Judges of various degrees, magistrates ami
deputy mft{^i»trate.<i, preside singly over the
ftita of districts as large a.^ Yorkshire or
Wales, and to enable them to make the most
remote pretence of discharging their diitie.«,
they receive the assistance of » swnnn of
native subordinates, whoso name may truly
be called legion.
The revenue department of the Indian
fTOvemraent is equally beholden to the min-
iKterings of these indigenous olfi<'ii}l8, without
whom, indeed, we could make but small pro-
gress in the collection of the twenty-seven
millions of pounds sterling annually squeezed
from the muscles of Indian ryots. I am
quite willing to admit at starting, what it
Tould be folly to deny, that to drcain of ear-
'jing on Iho administration of mir Indian
em jro without the aid of native subordinates
WOUJ he an utter absurdity.
Thtn authorities arc, unfortunately, ta-
ken frc., the very dregs of Asiatic society,
iind conm iRdiacriminitcly of Mahometmns
at d Hindus. It would perhaps be very dif-
ficult, if not impossible, to say which of these
two races are the greatest adepts at extor-
tion and every species of cunning rascality.
Mi.semt»ly paid, they Bfck, by an infinity of
methculs, to swell up their income, and this
they contrive to do with the utmost impu-
nity — living in the midst of luxuries when an
honest man would starve. The steps upon
the branches of this Great Indian }>can-Stalk
arc many r but, patiently followed, they lead
at last to a golden certninty^HR
Lallah Ram, of whose liffi am about to
relate a few trifling incidents, was a man of
humble station, but a.spiring in mind, and
being well acquainted with mo.st of the native
Oml'oh or judicial .siubordiiiate.s of the city,
used every influence in his power to obljun thft
inost menial appointnxent in the police court
After many tnonths of pntirnt watchfulncSB,
Lallah, by dint of duatur or fee, wa.s installed
as Orderly to the Deputy Magistrate of the
district, on a salary of eight shillings a month.
This pay was small enough, especially as
Lallah had a wife and three children to
maintain with it. But my hero had not been
a hanger-on of police courts and Cutchcrries
(collectors' offices) for nothing. He hod gained
a complete insight into the history of the
Great Indian Bcan-Stalk, and panted for an
opportunity of reducing his knowledge to
practice.
Lallah began systematically, and lo.st no
opportunity of ingratiating himself with his
master the Sahib Bahadur, or great magis-
trate ; hs made it appear on every occasion
that he was on the best possible footing with
Sahib ; to whom he was really quite iu-
dispensable. No sooner was this feeling
fairly established than the aspiring orderly
began to turn it to account Did any one, no
matter what his rank, desire an audience
with his highness the magistmto, he wa.9 kept
cooling his heels in the outer hall, until haviiij
exhausted his patience he oflered Lallah
a rupee to take his name to the Bahadur.
The orderly would give the solitary coin a
look of the utmost contempt, move not an
inch, and say that he was a poor man, but
had every desire to oblige the vi.sitor if io
his power. The suitor would relax, slip
five rupees into his willing palm, and trw
at once ushered info the presence amkU
many adjurations to the heathen pantheon,
and all sortfi of prosperity evoked on tin
donor's head. •
These visitors were numerous ; and, al-
though a few now and then endeavoured t«
rebel against the innocent practices of Lallah,
he was invariably a match for them. Should
there be any disposition to avoid the duthtt
{nngliee " down with the dust"), the fflrderly
(•.\prcs,sed umny regrets ; but the Sahib wi
most particularly engaged, and had given
express orders not to be disturbed on any
aecoutit It was seldom that a sentence of
this kind was misunderstood; the fe« mi
ak»uDi.k«Ml
THE GREAT INDIAN BEAN-STALK.
{iroduccJ, and tho door flung wide open. Pcr-
laps the visitor corupUincd, and tho orderly
may, porchnncc, have got a wigging. To be
even with him, the very next daj', when the
Sahib is particularly busy, I^llah pours in
upon himiRrhoIe host of troublesome people ;
ftnd when remonstrated with, declares that
*' Siihib wifihed it to be so." And tlms things
fall back to their old course.
rt^^d^|wly suitors and other visitors
^.whi^^^^^Mfc contribute to the orderly's
Wtfml^^^^^Knd up his golden ladder
the ve^^Wce inspectors, or thannadars,
cannot approach the prcsonco vrithout dtu-
tuf. Once upon a time an inspector,
either poorer or more stubborn than his
fellowB, did not choose to fall into the cus-
tomary practice, and declined bleeding for the
benefit of Lallah. The latter was, of course,
indignant at this unprincipled conduct, and
although he dared not act openly against the
ivciisant official, he laid hisi plans so quietly
and surely fw to effect all he desired. The
Sahib had many idle moments ; and, during
these, IjiJIah contrived to whisper to one of
tl»c hsngers-on, loud enough to be heard, some
granilaloiig proceeding of the thantiadar. The
other replied, also in a sort of stage whisper,
that he too hati heard something of the same
Sort, whilst the mohurrir, or clerk, chimed in
with another story against the doomed police-
man, and remarked that he was a scoundrel
and " unfaithful to hia oath." These whisper-
ings were of course, overheard ; and being
repeated at intervals, left an impression on
the mind of the Sahib bj- no incuns favourable.
No jiuins were spared to watch the victim ;
and aa might be expected, some irregularity
was at Inst brought against him, not perhaps
of any moment, but Lallah's whispered
poisons had worked their vlFoct in tho mind
of the magistrate, and the consequence was
Uial the thannadar was dismisseil.
Such were a (>;v: of the proceedings carried
on in the outer courts, tne vestibule of the
temple of justice. My hero was not less bold
and successful within the sanctuary itself.
His Viean-stalk was planteil deep at the
verv r.Hit .if tlie ju.stice seat No sooner was
n •!, no matter how insignificant,
till ii liful, indefatigable Lallah slipped
out ; aiul, following the successful suitor, ex-
tended towards him his open palm, into which
the other, too wise to decline, dropped a
nipce. The orderly offers up a mental vote
of thanks to Brahma, Siva and Vishnu, and
sneaks back to his place in court ; none but
those in the secret having observed his
absence.
The registry oflice was another locality
highly favourable for tho upward growth of
this fomous bc.in-stftlk. Whenever an order
of court was made out for a report from the
Sheristah, or nativo registry, bearing upon
eorac case in suit, LalUh took especial care
that the matter was not proceeded with for
many days. When tlie litigant was worn out
with delay, and became importunate, the
wily orderly took him outside, and quietly
requested to know how much he would give
to have the report made out forthwith. The
impatient suitor gladly proffered a nipce.
The dualur v%3 pocketed; and, proceeding
with his retainer to the registry office, Lallah
called out to the record-keeper, in a well-
understood swaggering tone, which was
meant to say " It's all right," that the Sahib
was highly incensed at tho deky with tho
plaintitTs reconl, and that he desired him to
intimate that any further hindrance would bo
punished with a smart fine.
The refusals to bleed wore far from being
many ; still they did happen occasionally.
When that was the ca.se, Lallah was in no way
disconcerted, for ho knew that it must come
at last, proceeded with tho unmanageable
suitor to the registry, and, winking his eye at
the vSheristah, simply enquires why the report
is not made out, in a inild tone of voice,
which plainly enough intimated that it was
not all right yet The Shcristah of course
understood ; and stroking his beard (he was a
Mahometan) called upon tho Prophet to
witness that some most important papers had
been demanded by a superior authority
which required immediate attention ; the
Sahib must accordingly allow him a few
more days' grace. The suitor, driven to
despair by this delay, con.scnted to a heavy
fee, and instantly Lallah became bis warmest
friend. Hastily retracing his steps, the
orderly, in a voice of thunder, expressed his
astonishment at the impertinence of the
Sheristuh, and gave him to know that if his
friend did not at once receive the report the
whole affair should be reported. Again the
tone and manner of the pliable orderly were
duly appreciated ; the report appeared as if
by magic, and Lallah, the lucky, retired to
share the spoil with the Shcristah, muttering
a song of thanksgiving to that very respect-
able boily tho Hindu Triad.
In this wny the bean-stalk had flourished
greatly ; but was now destined to bo trans-
planted to another locality, though still
within a genial, kindly soil. My hero, find-
ing the office of orderly not quite im|)ortant
enough for his ambition, and thirsting for
distinction and rupees, managed by a va-
riety of artful oriental devices to get elected
a Chuprassic, or process-server, to the native
sheriff of the district This was truly a
splendid field for his talents, and he was not
long before he turned tho golden opportunity
to account.
Tho mode of coining rupees in this depart-
ment was of the simplest kind, Tho sum-
monses for the appearance of defaulters of
revenue before the deputy magistrate were
very numerous, and the defendants were all
of the Ryot class, the poorest grade in society.
But unless the Zemindar, or landholder, who
took out the summons agreed to fee the chu-
prassic in addition to paying for the lummona,
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[ClBdMtad Vf
I
ho might a.s vrcll hare spared himself the
liitttT expense ; for the documents were left
quietly in the ofitziurs turban or his pouch
until the dititur was forthcoming. Some of
IIk-so zemindars were very rich and very
stin<ry, and now and then gave my friend
J-alliih a little trouble.
Some people would have been di.sconccrted
if the powerful zemindar of the next division
pivc no token of the usual fee. But not so
Liillah. He was prepared for every contin-
poncy, and was always cool and resolute. Ue
did nothing. The writ never left his pouch,
.and at the end of many days the plaintiff
complained that no summons had been served.
The cliuprassic, on being questioned, declared
by all the sacred spotd in Hindostan, that
the plaintiff's agent had refu^M.>d to indicate
the party to him, and what was he to do ?
There was no help for it but to issue a warrant
of ai)prehension, for which the zemindar had
to |>ay in addition, and who, aware at length
of the impos.sibility of proceeding without
(Jn-tfur, came down handsomely to the process-
stTvor,
Lallah became less particular as he moved
onwards in his career; and, i)rovided a handful
of coin was to bo the reward, never flinched
li-om any daring act of villany. It was of no
use doing things by halves. A greedy ze-
mindar wished to dispossess a poor cultivator
of a tract of fine laml held by the latter
uniUr a pottah, or lease, for which the ryot
iiad paid handsomely some time before. The
wealthy scoundrel trumped up a ca.se of
arrears of rent against the cultivator, and
obtnined a simple summons against him.
This document he placed, with some weighty
considerations, in the hands of Lallah the
obsequious, who undertook not to serve it
At the end of some days a return was made
to the Sahib magistrate to the effect that the
ryot would not show himself, but lay hidden
within his hut .so that his sutnmons could not
he. served. This is one of the most imfavour-
ahle otfcnccs a native can commit, in the eyes
'<f a conipany's magistrate ; it is never for-
iriven, and is always visited with severity.
The irate justice instintly made out an order
to dispossess the cultivator of his lands and
ni.'ike them over to the plaintiff. This was
as'a matter of c-ourse done, to the ruin of
the villager, the delight of the zemindar, and
the replenishment of Lallah's overflowing
purse.
It need not be wondered at, that by along
continuance of such practices, carried on by
iii<;lit and d.ty, at all sca.<:ons, and with all
clnsses, my hero was enabled to amass a
consiilerable sum, which was placed snugly
out :it usurious interest. A more lucrative
fi<*l'l, however, lay before him in the depart-
ment of Opium and Salt revenue, in which
he obtained admis.-?ion by the usual means.
The salary attached to this post was very
small considering the large amount of
revenue placed at his mercy. It was but
looK QUI tor con-
ic thoMomc in for
loKnflimookah
two pounds a month, and for this, he paid
to the English deputy collector ten pounds
monthly.
One of the chief duties of the officers of
this department is to search for contraband
dealers in opium ; all of whomflbe hi^^vily
fined. The right of sale is farmed out
annually ; and, naturally enough, these
ihrnicrs are always on the look out for con-
trabandists, especially since thoaHuuc in for
a lion's share of the fine. ^"
Lallah was waited on one fin'
sipping his coffee and smok
like any other great man, by the opium
farmer of the district ; who prefaced his
mission by most humble salaams and a
douceur of ten rupees slipped under his
hookah-stand. Of course the wary officer
took no notice of this little piece of panto-
mime, but knew that his services were in
requisition. The hookah was finished ; and,
without asking any troublesome qnestionti,
Lallah followed the farmer as meekly as a
lamb. Arrived at the suspected house,
accompanied by a posse of the fanner's
people and officers, an entrance was demanded
and obtained. The owner of the house was
a respectable and wealthy trader, and ap-
peared quite conscious of his innocence ; so
much so, that he paid small attention to the
proceedings of the party.
The search went on, and Jjallah, while he
seemed most inattentive, was really mo.-'t
watchful, saw one of the fanner's servants
conceal something under a heap of rubbish in
a corner. Presently another of the searchers
turned over the identical heap, and of couree
dragged from it that which had been placed
there — a quantity of the forbidden opium.
It was in vain for the trader to protest Us
innocence ; equally vain to declare timt the
whole thing was a plot Lallah asked him
with an air of offended dignity whether he
thought that he, Lallah, would be a party to
any knavery ? The whole thing was con-
clusive. The trader was rich, and could
therefore afford to pay the fine of one hun-
dred and fifty rupees, which were shared
between the government, the opium-fanner,
and Lallah.
Sometimes it happened that the fiirmrr
would not or did not " make things pleasant f
in which case my hero generally contrived to
show him the folly of his conduct by siding
with the suspected parties, and thus foiling
the attempts of the informers. It mattered
very little to him on which side he was
enlisted, provided the ways and means were
supplied ; indeed, he rather liked a little
opposition to the regular course of thingi^
seeing that it usually had the effect of bringing
back his former friends with stronger proo&
than ever of their regard for him.
From this department of the service
Lallah managed to climb a little higher on
the bean-stalk in his old calling — that ot
the police. He was now a Thannadar, or
CktriMi lKJh«AJ^l
THE GREAT INDIAN BEAN-STALK.
ita^edot of a district, and a personage of
Boinc PoniM.'<]uence. The same course of fees,
bribery, oiid presents, was carried on ns of
old ; I'Ut on a larger R-ale. His career was,
however, no longer smooth and unrnflled,
Anxleiii'S and cnrea stole upon the now great
man':; life, to vvbich he had before been an
ullor !?tri' - >•: "'id although he did contrive
by dint ri and well-niatured poliey
to cxtii -if from every fi'csh dilfl-
cul( V- :\n it aroiie, it tiiitoUed upon him great
walclifulni's*.
Munlere had become very frequent in
hi.-i now di'^trict, and the attention of the
superior uiithorilicB had been seriously called
to llie subject Just at tliat period a report
was sent in Irom a village to the elfcct that
a trader of some consaquence had disap-
pcarcl in a mysterious manner, and no tidings
of liim could be learnt. The m&gistr.itc re-
ceived to show his zeal in the cause, and
•DOonlinKly onlered Lallah to brin^ the
guilly parlies to justice, under penalty of
forfeiture of his office. The tbannadar set to
work in right good eameat, with every in-
Btnintcnt at bis disposal Fields, rivers,
hoiifios, hedges, jungle, forest — all were
Bcnn-hcd. but in vain ; no trace of the mur-
dored raan could be found, and for once
iallah was nt fault.
# A thanriaflir of a low and grovelling nature
irotdd hare reported his failure to hi.s supe-
rior; but not so Lallah. Tiic Sahii) wanted
evidence and a prisoner, and he was resolved
to provide tlic same at all hazards.
By sonic means Lallah ascertained that in
the same village in which the missing man
hail resideii, there dwelt another trader who
Was largely indebted to the supposed victim,
and who was known to be a raan of riolent
temiKT and loose habits. This wa» tlie very
man for Uie Uiaonadar. Who more likely to
have m.'ide away with the trader than his
debtor ijf ill-repntf? Had Lallah advertised
in the Mofussilite under the heading of
"Wantf'd, a .Munlercr," ho could not have
succet'dt'd mi)re to his wishes.
The shopkeeper was apprehended, together
with hia wife. Witnesses were of course
forthcoming, who swore by every Hindu
deity that they had heard the prisoners
and the missing roan at high words, and
that when lact seen the latter was in com-
pany with the former. So far so good ; but
the prisoner* denied their guilt to Lallah,
and that was a difficulty that had to be
overcome. They were confined in a deep pit
up to their waiHts in putrid Qlth during a day
and nij^'ht. On the following day they were
exposed to the burning rays of a tropical sun ;
and when, parched and feverish, they called
faintiiigly for water, a hag of dry and broken
chillies or capsicums was shaken over their
head& the fierce dust irom which, piercing
into tneir eyes and down their throats, drove
the miserable creatures almost mad Human
nature could not stand up against such treat-
ment: the rack and the wheel were mercy
to such torture; and in their agony tlicy con-
fessed to the commission of the crime in tlie
presence of witnesses, and offered their sig-
natures to a statement to that effect.
The case was thus in excellent condition,
and Lallah took it in triimiph before the
magistrate, who was equally pleased at the
result. The examination of the witnesst\s \va.s
very brief, and the case was sent up to tlie
sessions judge.
Bcfi^rc the higher tribunal little more was
done than recapitulating the proceedings of
the magistrate's court; and although no body
had been found, no bloo'ly weapon had been
produced, no one had ever witnessed the
deed, the prisoners were found guilty, and
sentenced to bo hung. This sentence had
ncces-sarily to be afnnned by a court of
appeal, which body sent the case back to tlie
judge, directing his attention to the fact that
he h.id forgotten to ask the pri.>wni:rs to plead
to the indictment, and had not examined any
witnejjses on their behalf, though they ap-
peared to have had some I The judge went
through the form of asking the prisoner.^ to
plead, and they as a last hope pleaded " Not
guilty." No witnesses appearing, the case
was again sent up for affirmation, when, for-
tunately fiir the condemned couple, the su-
perior tribunal decided that, owing to tho
plea of " Not guilty," and the aVjsence of (11
direct evidence, the criminals should not be
hung, but merely imprisoned for life, first
being branded on the forehead as felons.
So far all was well ; Lallah was rewarded,
and the magistrate praised for his activity.
But some few months after tho murdered
Duin turned up. Ho had been keeping out
of the way for some private reasons, and re-
turned on hearing of the trial and sentence of
bis supposed murderers. The latter were, of
course, set free ; but no pardon could erase the
feloii-hrand from their foreheads. The accused
man died broken-hearted soon afterwards,
having first related how he h.vJ been tortured
into a corifeasion, though, in doing so, he did
not dare to implicate the powerful Lallah.
The big scoundrel escaped, and tho little ones
were punished by dismitisal.
A year or two of these duties, and Lallah felt
anxious to be relieved of them. I lis wealth had
accumulated to an extent that wnrmnted him
in starting in quite a different career. Ho
next ajipeared at Calcutta in the chnrarter of
haninn, or moiiey-lcmler; a wide and fruitful
field for gain. Here Lallah Ram Sing figured
as a man of immense wealth and influence;
and, truly, few possessed more advantages
than bo did. Ho soon contrived to get a
dozen of the Calcutta officials deeply in his
books, and once there ho knew how to turn
thein to account. They w ere too needy to
refuse him any favour, or to decline to bo-
cotiio parties to jobs, however barefaced; and
in this way the bean-stalk grew so strong
tl»t Lallah was enabled to climb nearly to
A
M
HOUSEHOLD WUKUS.
COniacM^,
the top of it. His establishment is now
one of the largest in the City of Palaces.
His naiitchcs arc on the most magnificent
scale; the Governor-general was present at
the last. His clicni'; are more numerous than
those of any other banian; his monetary
trnnsactions more extensive ; and, in speaking
of his wealth, people talk not of thousands,
but of millions of rupees.
Tiiis Bean-stilk is not an imaginary plant.
It is not culled from Arabian romance or
fairy legend, but is taken from the veritable
records of Indian cvcry-day life. It grew
yesterday ; it grows to-day ; it will grow on
to-morrow, and will continue to grow until
the axe of Indian Reform cuts it down for
THE PHALWSTERIAN MENAGERIE.
OsB evening lately I found myself at Paris,
without being exactly able to remember how
I got there. I ought to have been on the
north coast of France, philosophising on the
beach at regular hours, or perhaps unphiloso-
phically contemplating the freaks of the adult
and infant bathers there. For I had a tire-
some lM>ok in hand to be forthwith edited,
and my last letter from England contained a
sovcrc" demand for " copy." Moreover, there
•)Viis a convalescent nursling in the way, for
whom Channel breezes were urgently prc-
sirjlu'd; nor had I any clear recollection of
li:ivin;c settled with my native landlady before
thus abruptly (|uitting her comfortable board
and lod};ing. IJut railways are such leaders
into temptation. "To Paris and back for
twenty francs" had been placarded about for
a fortnight past. I have s&bstantial proof
that it is a vulgar error that " rolling stones
gather no moss." In short, at Paris Iseemed
to bo, without my French mother — and they
are a .shar]j-.<iglited set — ^having the least sus-
picion that I was out
It is a luxury of ecstatic degree to make
this kind of sudden escape, and to break loose
out of the mill-round of duties which have
daily to bo done from morning till night A
new set of faces, a new set of streets, a new
set of hedges and ditches and fields, arc most
elTcctual tonics. There are people in the
worlil who would die, or go mad, if they
could not freely and fairly take wing now and
then. I am closely related to that family of
mip;rants ; and that, T suppose, was the reason
why I happened so oddly to be strolling about
Paris, unconscious of the means which had
conveyed me.
I had no object on earth to take me there,
and I wandered along in delightful careless-
nes.s. As it was getting dusk, I reached one
of the quays. IJefore me flowed the ru.shing
Seine; behind roc rose a large and dingy
buiMing. which bore some resemblance to a
publi8her*s shop. I leaned over the parapet,
gazing at the river, and musing on some
■trangc notions about electricity thai had
been proposed to my consideration, when a
sudden glare of light interrupted my thoughtSt
and nude me turn round to ascertain the
cause. The building was brilliantly and in-
stantly illuminated — could it be by the elec-
tric light? — and through the windows I oould
see that it contained, besides books, a lar^
collection of living animals. Of course, in
Paris all such treasures as this woald be
open to the inspection of a well-behaved
public, and I at once determined to ascertain
the prescribed form of obtaining admittance.
But, as I approached the door, it was opened
wide to receive my visit, and a handsome,
brown-bearded, full-eyed man invited me in
with pleasing yet dignified looks and ges-
tures.
" I only occupy a portion of this catabUdh
mcnt," he said. "My fellow-labourers, not
less enthusiastic than myself, have each their
special department assigned them. Mine,
just now, is to exhibit the Menagerie. The
public will not arrive quite yet in any num-
bers to require my attention; bo, as I per-
ceive you are a stranger and an Englishman,
it will afford me pleasure to act as your guide
for a private view, during the brief interal
which I have to spare before lecturing to uj
usual audience."
Only one reply— a bow of thanks — conM ba
made to this obliging oficr. I followed my
Mentor, charmed with his manner and nmntf^
with his matter, but often seriously askiiig
myself whether or not I were in compaaj
with an escaped lunatic. Still, at many ■
remark which he made, I resolved to try sad
remember that, and give some report of Ui
observations.
Let us first — he said — ^inspect the aainsb
which have rallied around the standard <f
man; some of them as auxiliaries, otlMfl
merely as domestic slaves. What a pity tW
I should have so few to show youT WiA
exceedingly rare exceptions, every livi^ ,
creature, whether bird or beast, sincerely dt- |
sires to fraternise with man ; and during (hi '
space of six thousand years, with
thousands of animals to work upon, «e hen
only succeeded in attaching to us some Wf
of them, at the very outside calculatioiL i
do not know of any fact which ia UK
severely condemnatory of the actiul phaMif
society, than the simple comparison of tlMi
figures respectively.
Here you observe a goodly collection if
dogs, all admirable for their special meiik
God havini^ in the beginning created nHi
and beholdmg him so feeble, gave him A>
dog; and in order that the dog might entinif
belong to man, he exclusively endowed Vk
with friendship and devotion. He inatSW
into his heart the most profound oonteofl
fo^ family joys and paternity. He Undtii
his sentiment of love to the animal instinettf
reproduction. He left love and familism, fti
pas.<!ions of the minor mode, to the inferi*
canine race, the Fox. The dog is the noUfil
IL
X
'
conquest that roan hu ever ma<le ; for he b
the first element in the progress of humanity.
Without the do^, man iroulil have been coin-
pcllLti to vegetate eternally on the border-land
of SavagiTy. The dog unableb human society to
.pus from the ravage to the pntriarohal stjttc,
^f presenting it with Hooks and herds. No
dog, no tiock nor herd, — no (lock nor herd, no
certain mcuns of subsistence ; no leg of mut-
ton, nor roast beef lit pleasure; no wool,
no plaids, nor hurnoiu ; no leisure hours, no
astronomical observations, no science, no in-
dustry. The dog h.is enabled in.tnkiml to
tlnd time for all those things. The cast la
the cradl<j of civilisation, because the east
u the native land of the dog. Take away the
M; from Asia, and Asia is no belter off than
terica. What constitutcii the superiority
the <Jld over the New World, is the i>o.s-
lion of the dog. What, in fact, is the end
all the ettbrts of intellect, all the labours
of the Mohican, who has only the chace to
{Impend on for a subsJKtencc ? It is nothing
JMrc than the 8tU'Jy of the great art of
mcking and fullon'ing his game, or his enemy.
Now, that young terrier who is peeping out
of his kennel, knows as much, or more, of
this dil'Bcult science afler six months' study,
as tiio DiMt intelligent savage at the end of
forty years. The natives of the East, then,
who possessed the dog, were relieved fl-oin an
amount of jixiuful labour which employed the
whole life and faculties of the Reil Skins.
They had time to spare, and they were able
to employ it in the creation of industry.
Such is the origin of arts and trades ; such
is the whoh: dillervaee between the Old and
New Continents. Hibtorians have written
thou.sands of volumes on this grave question,
without lighting upon the discovery of this
simple truth ; and brave anatomists continue
to dissect the sculls of Americans, in order
to find out tiio cause of the inferiority of tliat
race, without even suspecting that they uru
wandering a hundred leagues away from thu
solution of the problem.
To this new and luminous antliropological
solution there hangs another observation,
which i8 equally my own, namely tliat canni-
balism ia an eo<lcmic disease in all countries
that have the misfortune to be without dogs.
Why 18 cannibalism never met with amongst
pastoral nations, amongst the Chaldeans,
Egyptians, Arabians, Mongolians, and Tartars ?
Because the milk and tlesh of the herds and
flocks, with which the dog has endowed those
nations, constantly preserve them from the
criminal tcmptatioos of hunger. i.>n this
subject, I will beg permission not to add my
anathema to those which have .so often iicen
hurled agninst anthropophagy by the hnnd
of false morality and false philanthropy. Can-
nibalism is one of the diseases of the earliest
infancy of humanity ; a depraved taste which
fhtuine expUiua, if it doea not entirely justify.
Pity the caimibul, and dotft abuse him, yu
tncnibers of civili^id society, who eat under-
done meat, and kill millions of men, for much
less plausible molive^s than hunger. Accord-
ing to my own ideas, of all the wars which
men wage against each other, war for th«
sake of eating one's eucuiy is the only ra-
tional warfare on the whole list Uoasting
one's adversary after he is dead, is not h.nlf
so senseless and wicked un action as killing
him by wholesale when he feels no incliniilion
to die, From cannibalism, and all its iilten-
dant horrors, our faithful friend, the dog, baa
rescued us. It is not his fault if we still
commit the most atrocious form of human
madness — war.
Behold a specimen of domestic swine, which
are allowed the entne of the raeniigcrie. If
the pig still continued to lend to man the aid
of his snout to discover and Jisiuter the
truffle, I should have been able to include
him in the hst of auxiliaries; but it is evident
that the moment he allowed the dog to disjilace
him from his special function, he Inst the right
of figuring in tliat honourable cla.^s. I may
be told that he has been employed in St.
Domingo and elsewhere, as a call-pig, playing
exactly the same port in the woods as his
pa,s,sional homologue, the call-duck, does upon
the lake. I do not deny the fact ; but the
mere act of calling, quacking, or grunting,
does not constitute an auxilLiiy. There i.s,
besides, another reason of a superior or<ler,
& reason of analogy, which compels me to
refuse that title to the pig. Ho is the em-
blem of the miser ; and the misi-r is good for
nothing till after hi.s death, Con.sequently
it was not amongst the pig's possibilities to
be useful to man during lii.s li^.
The he-goat, the mutilated typo of the
Houquetin of the Pyrenees and the .Mps, has
never enjoyed any great reputation fbr sanctity,
and I will not take upon me to a.ssert timt ho
has nnpiired a much worse name than he
deser^'cs. It is very certain that, by his dis-
Holute morals, he laya himself open to
calumny, and that tlie odour he exhales docs
not Kviiibolisc a model of purity. Ho is the
emblem of brutal sensuality. The Greek,
Jewish, and Christian religions accord with
analogy in this respect Thu Greeks were
not content with eacriticing a goat to Bacchus,
as being one of the vine's enemies, one of the
plagues of attractive labour; they di.sguised
their satyrs with the mask and character of
the lascivious animal, in order to brand grci-a
and material love with an unmistakeable
mark of reprobation, in order to declare their
belief that purely sensual passion is degrading
to man, and lowers him to the level of tha
brute.
I am sorry to pass sentence on a po<5r
anini.ll already laden with the sins of I.Toel ;
but I cannot find it in my heart to utter a
word of cxcu.se for an emblem of lust and
moral flfltb, for an eoKniy of vineyards and
agriculture. I confms that the future pro.<v-
pects of the goat lill me with considerable
alarm ; for I find no employment for hvn\ vw
I
I
\
66
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
ii
L
harmony, when leather breeches will suffer
an ininiunsc reduction in price, in conHequence
of the suppression of the gendannerie. The
most nivoiirablo lot the gout can then expect
is to be banished to his native country, for
the purpose of repeopling the glaciers and
rocky precipices, in company with thevigogne,
the iiiotiilon, and the chamois.
I.nsr.ivious, capricious, and easy-tempered,
addirted to vagabondage and sorcery, fond of
haltpetre, but a gowl daughter and a good
niotlmr at the bottom of her heart, the she-
gojit represents the thorough-bred gipsy, the
siiisirt Esmeralda. Lament if you like, but
biwarc of endeavouring to avert the lot
whi<h awaits Esmeralda and the goat The
pvAt and her family may henceforth fiud
their ajipropriatc place in the colonisation of
desei'l i.slands and uninhabitable mountains.
Uiuler every latitude the goat and the rabbit
are undoubtedly the best agents which God
hiis f;iveii to man, for derivuig some profit
from the barren rock.
I'rudence forbids niy speaking my mind on
the subject of the slicep and the lamb, which
you see folded there. I have ■ very littlo
esteem for sheep-like people, who submit to
be shorn without resistance. Innocence,
candour, and resignation under suffering are
virtues which I do not desire to see too com-
mon in France. It is high time that the
liitnb, and the poor working man, should
cease (o play the i)art of victim. Therefore,
mind how you behave yourselves, ye cruel
butchers and iniquitous shepherds!
I do not value the tame rabbit in th.at
hutch, either for his flesh or for his habits,
which latter are tinged with cannibalism;
but I am plea.<«ed with his fecundity, his rapid
growth, and many other merits — with his
low j)ricc especiidly — permitting him to make
arifuaintaiice with poor people's stomachs
who have no means of tasting butcher's meat
The nibliit is the emblem of the poor labourer
who lives by working in quarries and mines,
a race which sometimes finds repose at the
liottom of its subterranean retreat, but liable
to be attacked by a thousand enemies the
moment it puts its nose above ground. It is
not gifted with foresight, like the hamster
and the squirrel, because the wages of tiic
workmen, whom it symbolises, are too low
for them to be able to lay by the lea.st
fi:;cti.in against a rainy day. The rabbit
mrw limes kills its young. Every day, want
and ]irolligaoy drive' the starving workwoman
to commit infanticide. This crime, so common
in the tiibe of rabbits, happens more rarely
in the trilie of hares. The reason is, that
destitution is more frightful in manufacturing
towns than in agricultural districts. The
ral<bit has made riots, and overthrown cities,
according to the account of Pliny. In
great towns the poor occasionally indulge
in the same amusement, but never in the
country, because they arc not crowded close
enough together, to be able to compute
their own numbers and strength. In Cham-
pagne I used to know a gamekeeper who
]>iped rabbits by means of a bird-call, in the
same way as is practised with robin red-
breasts, and which forced them out of
their burrows quicker than the ferret would.
The art of piping rabbits was practised in
Spain in very ancient times ; the verb eheUar
being coined to specify the process, which
was also not unknown in Provence,
Next vou have a group of stinkards,
vermin whom I hold in abomination. Neither
the boar nor the stag is a scentless animal,
yet no one ever thougnt of applying the name
of stinkard to them. A denomination m
gracefully characteristic has been reserved
for these lowest of Iwings, which hiding in
some subterranean retreat, and poisoning the
air with their odious effluvia, live by danger-
less murder and rapine. The polecat — the
best known type of the pjoup which I style
"cut-throats"'^ and " blood-drinkers"— the
polecat, and all the rest of its tribe, have
been gifted by the Creator with a membra-
nous pouch, situated close to the tail, and
secreting an odoriferous liquid In the
stinkards of our on-n climate, this odour it
nothing worse than repulsive; but in the
species of Central America, known unclpr the
significant name Mephitics, it is fw> honiblj
and unbearably fetid as to suffocate and
poison those who breathe it In that country,
there have been ca.ses proved of persons being
killed in their "beds by the odour of stinkards;
and it is sufficient for one of these creatart*
merely to pass through a granary, a trtS^
room, or a cellar, to render every proviraon in
them uneatable, every beverage undrinkabk.
Charitable souls will learn with dcliglit that
the science of military engineering, the ndUe
art of legal destruction, h.ns lately borrowtl
a wrinkle iVom the stinkard in tlie pmctia
of distant poisoning. People in general an
not prep.nrcd for the surjmse which mwiib
them on the next declaration of hostilitici
between absolutism and democracy. HuH^ibi
will not run in their usual style. Instead of
that, we shall read in the (Jazettc, •' AHw
two hours' cannonading, at the distance rf
fldeen hundred yards, the enemy fled in d
directions, abandoning their arms and Aeir
cannon, and holding their noses. So complete
a victory was never attended with so Htdi
bloodshed. The enemy fell, like brimstonrf
bees, performing the most grotesque aai
laughable contortions. Nose-witnesses tf-
serted that the infection from our howitiof
was such, that the air was tainted for ft>
distance of several miles. The successes of
the day may be in prent part .attributed tt
the ingenious precaution wnicli I had taken;
namely, to furnish each of our soldiers wift
a pair of spectacles."
This blootl-thirsty family includes fte
animals which furnish the finest and the moil
esteemed peltry ; wherefore, stinkard-hunti^
is an important alfiur, both in Siberia and
^1
i
OtarMM t>t«fc«M.]
THE PHALANSTBRTAN MENAGERIE.
«T
Amcricai. Analoi^ teaches us the rnwon,
both of the Kingiiinory disposition which
chw.'icteriscs thi.s species, fts well us of the
inMipporfnhle O"ioor vrbi«'h it exhales, and the
uilk-iiK-y anii strength of it8 garment of fur.
ThiOilond-flrinkers — the J/iM^e/ /am of learned
Ungii.'igc— .are the most gnnpuinary animnlc
in all crciition; bewu^fe they symbolise
thieves in little and murderers In little —
cn»[i<iison(TR of proTisions nnri adulterators
of drinks — nnd because the crafty pnu*lice8
of tlii"ic mriinrst of indusfrialp, who sprout
»nJ di-iurish on the outslcirts of civilisiBtion,
canse the death of an infinitoly greater niim-
i|Mr of persons than the cannon and the
^fqronet The purveyor for the fti-my or
narr, who pares off hi? profit fi-om the
soldier's ration, nniJ the Director of the Al-
gerian hospital, who arlultfratcs the fiulphate
of (piinine, have killed a hundred times as
mny* soldiers as the .■Vrabs, even since
il^een hundred and thirty. I rejoice to
Warn that nothing of the' kind has ever
oWMijTfd in proi'isionin» the Britir^h fleet.
The polecat and its inunlerous brethren
owe to the elaKtieity of their intercostal
cartilages a suppleness of backbone which
allows them to insinuate themselres thrnuph
the narrowest chinks of the dovecote and the
poultrv-housp. An entrance once effected,
Uic vilianons hnitvs bathe in blood, intoxicate
themselves with murder, and kill rijht nnd
left (or the mere plpasiiro of killin;:r. This
stipple Bpirie and in^xtineui^hable thirst for
frore represent the inpatiable avidity, pro-
fliiraoy, and astuteness of the usurer, the man
of Uw. the pkadcT, and the legist, who creep
ihroujrh the smallest chinks of the code —
(Wmetimes miasinc the pilleys by the merest
bsir's-brcadth — to penetrate into hard-work-
ing households, entwine the poor labourer in
their deadly folds, and blcci him till he is as
pale a» death. The polecat is pililcBs ; ft
dc«troy/J every individual bird which it finds.
Exactly in the same way, the Jew, after
drawing the last drop of gold from the vein^
of his victiir. will throw him on a Bfraw bed
in prison, repardloKs of his unhappy family,
whom the lietention of their head reducs
to want, and delivers to the terrible saprges-
tions of hunirer. Innoocnt species — the
pigeon, the hen. the pheasant, the rabbit —
are tho nsoul victims of the polecat's ra?e.
The weak, the poor city workman, and the
hutiibic fiinn hihourw, arc the prey of the
cheat, the parajfite, and the usurer. The
remarkable adherence of the hair to the skin,
which conslil'iles the value of fur, symbolises
the avarice of men of the law, traffickers in
lyin;; words, and dealer* in adulterated good.^,
NothinK can ef|U*l the tenacity with which
thc!i« muni/i/fJi hold their ill-jjotlen we.tlth.
The infected odour exhalefl by stinkards is
the extortion and stock-johbin?, the assault
Md miirder, which transude from the ^n-
prmed body of France, when! Jewish influence
18 paramount
Would we cure the body social of its
inftmjcs, and extenninato the nuisance from
our territory? Tlie means of both arc one
nnd the same ; and, moreover, have the ad-
vantajrc of being oxceedinpl)* easy. To heal
the wounds of society, nnd exttmuinale the
polcat, wo must sub.slitute fnilcniity for
selfishness, centralism for divergence, uni-
versal partnership for piecv-nieal property.
Let uji suppress all piecc-raeal property,
which is the golden-egged hen of chicanery,
mort«ragp, and iLsurj' ; witneJis the subtle
pleader, the sworn interpreter of the code,
and the retail dealer in stamped paper, who
shuts up shop \vithout any warninjr. Let us
exchange the five hundred miserable huts,
which arc the pride and glory of civilised
vilIap?R, into one splendid communal palace, a
comfort.ible club-house for the entire popula-
tion. r<et us replace the five hundred barns,
covered with thatch, piercctl with holes, an(l
tumbling to pieces, into ono vast, united
granary, to receive the produce of the com-
mune, nnd over whose inviolability numberless
agents will feel it their offlce to keep strict
watch. Instantly, every one of tho noisome
Tt^rmin which arc the ruin tif the labourer —
polecats, rats, weevils, and so on — will dis-
appear from tho nui'M for ever. U is evident
that the question of the polecat, ami of the
V3n>pires of parasitism, is identical ; that both
these pests have simiiltuneously invaded tho
body social ; that thej' issue fnini the same
source, antagonism ; and that, the cniise
ce.%sing, its necessary effuct will also cease.
I await the death of "the last surviving pole-
cat to deliver a triumphant funeral oration
ov<*r the grave of the Inst of thieves.
Now for the fox — a nasty <T<-atiire, the
object, too, of nnsty sport. Fox-huntinc is
only excusable as one means of fox destruc-
tion. You English hunt the fox for hunting's
sake ; and it is a rejiroach of which you will
never clear yourselves. tUlicr beasts you
hunt, not for the sport, but to break your
necks and practice liorse-dealfng. Fox-
hunting affords no interest at all, and hardly
deserves to have a word bestowed upon it.
Young foxes ar.j cisily familiariseil In tho
faces and creatures of the house in which they
arc- brought up. The part of our institutions
which they most readily full in with, are our
regular fixed hours for eating. T know no
chronometer that indicates the precise time
of dinner with greater exactness than a fox's
stomach. Tame foxes which had regained
their liberty, have been known af^cr three
month.s' absence, to return to the farm where
they had lived, and always, observe, rit dinner
time.
A Ion? while ago, T was the proprietor
(continued my scientific showman) of a very
young fox, a remarkable wng, who was (m\-
pable of beating .a commissary-gi-ncral in
the art of playing tricks with estnble.s. lie
was my own and my .school-fellowR' ;;n'at
consolation, during our study of La.V.wv t!LT\\
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68
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
(OMtecteAlf
L
Greek. The applause bestowed upon hLs
clever tricks, together with too much self-
satisfaction, perhaps, and the intoxication of
s»icccs.<«, had developed to an extraordinary
degree the manifestations of his crafty nature.
My mother, who, according to the terms of
the Civil Code, was responsible for the nets
and deeds of my fox, asserted sometimes, in
an undertone, that she might have bought a
hand.some horse with the sum total of the
indemnities which my mischievous brute
had cflst her for murdered chickens, plun-
dered soup-boilers, and tame rabbits artfully
made away with. At last, a price was set
upon his head; but who, in our presence,
dared to undertake the execution of the
sentence ?
A kite of courage, when the thing was
proposal to him, did not shrink from the
cnter{)rise. He was a redoubted bird, the
terror of all the cats and poodles of the place,
and jiroudly conscious of fifty victories. He
challenged the fox to single combat, and the
lists were opened with my consent. The
kitchen was the field of battle. The first
attack was terrible. Surprised and frightened
by the aggressor's impetuosity, Reynard dis-
gracefully turned tail, and sought a retreat
in the darkest comer of the room. Tlie bird
then pounced upon the enemy's rump, slashing
away with all the power of his beak. But
that portion of the adversary, the only part
he could work upon, was also hairy and in-
vulnerable. Satiated at lait with his apparent
triumph and the uproarious applause of the
delighted public, he left his quarry, perched
upon the back of a low chair, and soon was
dozing like a gorge<l buzzard. The spectators,
supposing that all the fun was over, discussed
the superior gallantry of carnivorous birds
over carnivorous quadrupeds ; and the debate
became so animated, that the actual com-
batants were completely Io.<;t sight of, till a
fearful .scream re-echoed through the place.
We turned and looked, and — lieart-rending
sight! — the kite lay prostrate on the floor of
the arena, beating tho air with his dying
wing, and contracting his claws in a final
convulsion of agony.
How the death-wound had been dealt, I
was the only person able to say. Tt was a
feint borrowed from tho femous combat of
the Horatii and the Curatii. The fox had
(led, in order to induce the bird to pursue
him, and waste his strength upon his padded
burklor. As soon as tho kite was tired and
had given up tho contest, the cunning brute
turned his head, observed the position, and
mrasured the distance. Then, darting forward
with a terrible bound, which no one foresaw
and no one heard, he seized the unsuspecting
creature in his mouth, and pierced him
through and through with a single bite. The
whole affair was the work of a moment
When we looked to see where the murderer
was, we perceived him under the kitchen
sink, contemplating the maid as she washed
up the dinner plates, like a complete stranger
to the tragic event
Further on, I will show you some creatares
which stand as the symbols of literary men.
You bear the bell which is ringing at this
moment ; it announces to them their feeding
time. * ♦ * Here the loud sound of some
heavy body falling plump between my feet,
diverted my attention from the speaker'" h»-
rangue. I looked on the floor to discover what
had occasioned the noise; and there, sure
enough, lay a half-open, thick octavo volume,
whose aspect was perfectly familiar to me. I
stooped to raise it from the ground. On listen-
ing for the continuation of my conductor's
address, and the sequel remarks on literkiy
animals, the Illuminated Menagerie bad en-
tirely disappeared, and I was sitting in my
arm-chair in my snug little study, exactly
where I ought to have been — namely, on the
north coast of France, instead of at Paris, I
knew not how.
"Moniieur est Mnif" shouted a female
voice, in a very unusuiQ tone of displeasure.
" The dinner has been on the table for ever
so long, and everybody is tired of waiting: I
have rung the bell till my arm quite aches.
The soup, made of a magnificent veal ankle^
is now as cold as fountain-water; and the
omelette, in which I surpassed myaelf, dadi*
ing it off in a moment of enthusiasm, is no
bettor than a bit of buttered sponge. It is
cruel of you. Monsieur Feelsone, to serve me
so," continued my landlady as she entered the
room. "But, ah! I see tTie cause of the in-
difference to meal-times which has lately over-
clouded your spirit I behold the reason of
the ungrateful return which you make to-dsy
for my kitchen labours. It all arises fttn
tliat ugly, wicked treatise. In vain I Be
awake all night, contemplating a happy com-
bination of dishes ; in vain I ransack ths
waters, salt and sweet ; in vain I send emis-
saries to marsh and wood, all to procur« yvu
fish and game. Now-o'-days you care no
more about them than if they were slices flf
bread and butter. But if ma'tters are mneh
longer to go on in this way, I shall wish Pha-
lansterianism at the bottom of the aca. IL
Victor had a groat deal better attend to bk
patients' maladies, than keep sending to Fteii
for books by the dozen, to corrupt rour mind
as well as his own. I shall soon 'be locked
upon as a complete nobody in the house, if
comfortable lodging and liberal bcNird an
treated as things not worth attending ta
Philosophy is to have tho upper hand!
Worlds of Birds! and Minds of Brutes! I
wonder what nonsense will next bo thongfat
off I am sure all your friends are sick of
tho subject For my part, if Dubois — ^
" Madame Dubois," I calmly answered, "I
plead guilty to having fallen fa.<!t asleep. But do
not bo too angry with our books ; for I assmo
you that, if ever you let lodgings in Harmony,
you will have a much wider and more honom^-
able scope in which to exercise the cuUnaiy
I ■
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A CHILD'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND,
69
art Wc shall thvn be gided with a gamut
of Ui6t«s, as :otnpIcta as novr i» our gamut
of Bounds. For insUnce, loaves of bread will
then be made to aaswur exactly to eucli of
the savoury notes of the scale. You will be
able to compose chromatic suucuii, to S4:rve ax
the variations to diatonic dishes. You will
cook a grand pastoral dinner in E flat major,
to be followed by an allegro supper in D.
That the books, though eccentric, are not bad
ftt the bottom, your own acute judgment
■hall decide for itsclC You arc aware,
Madame, that women, in France, are not
treated with sulficient consideration. They
have too little to do ; they are kept far too
much in the back-ground ; thuy exercise too
little influence both in public and private
affairs; and are not consulted half oflcn
enough about things which concern their
sons and their husbands. Well; the writer
of this very book proposes to remedy the evil
of thia completely. Henceforth, instead of
gentlemen taking the lead, 'Mrs. and Mr.
Smith' will be the polite style. Listen only
to one short pasjiage : ' Females in general
are the epitome of all that i.s good and beau-
tiful. Why do men shave their bearil-s if it be
not to resemble the feminine tyiie i Woman
is th(i second edition of man, revised and cor-
_|»ctcd, and considoi-ably embellished.' There,
wiarao Dubois, what do you think of thntf"
b(K)ks are not heretical, after all!"
■ answer. " Study is certainly a vcrj'
ing thin;;. You and M. Victor have
3uite a right to cultivate j-our mind.*!, if you
o not neglect your dinner-limes. Perhaps,
by-and-bye, 1 may allow the Messieurs D. to
peruse a few extracts, if you will make it the
effect of your goodncs-s to select the mo.>it
edifying parts for their instruction — like that
which you readjust now. Never mind tilings
being cold for once. The soup shall soon bo
hot again. I'll whip up an omelette to eclipse
the first The roast shall retire into the oven
for a moment; and the .salad will be the
better for a second dressing."
"IJravo, Madame 1 I am wide awake now.
When wc pass from Civilisation to Harmon}',
you shall rule the roast and boiled, in the
Commuiuil Palace in which I dwell. For, in
thftt liappy state of existence, no work is to
be done but labours of love."
A CHILD'S inSTORY OP ENGLAND.
CHATTTB XXITU.
Tup. I^ong Parliament assembled on the
tJiird of .\ovcmber, one thousand six hundred
an<l forty-one. That day week the F>arl of
Strairord arrived from York, VL-ry sensible that
the spirited and determined men who fonned
that Parliament were no friends towards him,
who bad not only deserted the cause of the
people, but who bad, on all occasions, opposed
himself to their liberties. The King told hiro,
for his comfort, that the parliament " should
not hurt one hair of hid head." But, on tlie
very nest day, Mr. Pym, in the House of
Commons, and with great solemnity, im-
peached the Earl of Strafford as a traitor.
He was immediately taken into custody, and
fell from his proud height in a moment
It was the twenty-second of March before
he was brought to trial in Westminster Hall,
where, although he was very ill, and .sulTered
great pain, he defended himself with such
ability and m-ijesty, that it was doubtful
whether he would not get the best of it iiftor
all. But on the thirteenth day of the trial,
Pym produced in the House of Commons a
copy of some notes of a council, found by
young Sir Harrt Vame in a red velvet
cabinet belonging to his father (Secretary
Vane, who sat nt the council-table with tlio
Earl), in which Strafford had diiitinctly tt)ld
the King that he was frt'e from all rules and
obligations of government and might do with
his people whatever he liked ; and in which
he had added — " You have an army in Ire-
land that you may employ to reduce this
kingdom to obedience." It was not clear
whether by the words "this kingdom," ho
had really meant England or Scotland, but
the Parliament contended that he meant
England, and of course this was treason. At
the same sitting of the House of Commons it
wjis resolved to bring in a bill of attainder
declaring the trc.ison to have liccn comtiiifted :
in i)refcrcncc to proceeding with the trial by
impeachment, which would have required the
treason to have been proved.
So a bill was brought in at once, was
carried through the House of Commons by a
large majority, and was sent up to the Hoiise
of Lords. While it was still uncertain
whether the House of Ix)rds woiild pass it
and the King consent to it, Pym disclosed to
the House of Commons that the King and
Queen had both been plotting with the
officers of the army to bring up the soldiers
and control the Parliament, and also to
introduce two hundred soldiers into the
Tower of I^ondon, to effect the Earl's escape.
The plotting with the anny was revealed by
one Georoe Gofusci, the .son of a lord of that
name : a bad follow, who w.<w one of the
original plotters, and turned traitor. The
King had actiinlly given his warrant for the
admission of the two lumdred men into the
Tower, and they would b."ive got in too but for
the refusal of the governor — a sturdy Scotch-
man of the name of Balfoi-k — to admit thcni.
These mutters being maile public, gre.it num-
bers of people began to riot outi^ide the
Houses of Parliament, and to cry out for (he
execution of the Earl of Strafford, as one of
the King's chief iiislniments against them.
The bill pa.sscd the House of Lords while the
people were in this state of agitation, and
was laid before the King for his as.<cnt, to-
gether with another bill, declaring tliat the
Parliament then as-scmWed .should not be
dissolved or adjourned without their own
consent The King— not unwilling to savo
I
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70
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[CmdiKMtj
a faithful servant, though he had no great
attachment for him — was in some doubt what
to do ; but he garo his consent to both bills,
although ho in his heart believed that the
bill against the Earl of Strafford was un-
lawful and unjust The Earl had written to
him, tulling him that he was willing to die for
hJH sake. But he had not expected that his
royal master would take him at his word
'|iiitc so readily ; for when he heard his doom
he laid his hand upon his heart, and said,
" Put not your trust in Princes !"
The King, who never could be straight-
forward and plain, through one single day
or through one single sheet of paper, wrote a
litter to the Lords, and sent it by the young
Prince of Wales, entreating them to prevail
with the Commons that "that unfortunate
man should fulfil the natural course of his
life in a close imprisonment" In a postscript
to the very same letter, he added, " If he must
die, it were charity to reprieve him till
Saturday." If there h.ad been any doubt of
his fate, this weakness and meanness would
have settled it The very next day, which
was the twelfth of May, he was brought out
to be beheaded on Tower Hill.
Archbishop Laud, who had been so fond of
having people's cars croj)ped off and their
noses slit, was now confined in the Tower
too ; and when the Earl went by his window,
to his death, he was there, at his request, to
nivL- him his blessing. They had been great
f>icnds in the King's cause, and the Earl had
wriiten to him, in the d.ays of their power,
that he tliought it would be an admirable
thing to have Mr. Hampden publicly whipped
for refusing to pay the ship-moiicy. However,
those high and mighty doings wore over now,
and the Earl went his way to death with
dignity and heroism. The governor wished
him to get into a coach at the Tower gate,
for fear the people should tear him to pieces ;
but he said it was all one to him whether he
die<l by the axe or by their hands. So, he
walked, with a firm tread and a stately look,
and sometimes pulled off his hat to them as
he passed along. They were profoundly
<]uict He made a >peech on the scaffold
from some notes he hud prepared (the paper
was found lying there after his head was
struck off), and one blow of the axe killed
him, in the forty-ninth j^ear of his age.
This bold and daring. act the Parliament
accompanied by other famous mca.sure.<, all
originating (as even this did) in the King's
having so gro.ssly and so long abased his power.
The name of Delixqcents was applied to
all sheriffs and other officers who had been
concerned in raising the ship-money, or any
uthcr money, from the people, in an unlawful
n):inner; the Ilampdcn judgment was re-
versed; the judges who had decided against
Hampden were called upon to give large
securities that they would tike such conse-
quences as Parliament might impose upon
them ; and one was arrested as he sat in
High Court, and carried off to prison. Laud
was impeached; the unfortunate victims,
whose ears had been cropped and whoso
noses had been slit, were brought out of
prison in triumph ; and a bill was passed,
declaring that a Parliament should be called
every third year, and that if the King and
the King's officers did not call it, the people
should assemble of themselves and summon
it, as of their own right .and power. Great
illuminations and rejoicings took place over
all these things, and the country was wildly
excited. That the Parliament took advan-
tage of this excitement, and stirred them up
by every means, there is no doubt ; but you
are always to remember those twelve long
years, during which the King had tried so
hard whether he really could do any wrong
or not.
All this time there was a great religious
outcry against the right of the Bishops to sit
in Parliament ; to which the Scottish people
particularly objected. The English were
divided on the subject, and, partJy on this
account, and partly because they had had
foolish expectations that the Parliament
would be able to take off nearly all the taxes,
numbers of them sometimes wavered and
inclined towards the King.
I believe myself that if, at this or almost
any other period of his life, the King could
have been trusted by any mnn not out of his
senses, he might have saved himself and kept
his throne. But, on the Enijlish .army being
disbanded, he plotted with the officers .tgain,
as he had done before, and established the
fact beyond all doubt, by |)utting his si{^n«r
ture of approval to a petition against the
Parliamentary leaders, which was drawn up
by certain officers. When the Scottish army
was disbanded, he went to Edinburgh in roui
days — which was going very fast at that time
— to plot again, and .so darkly, too, tliat it if
difficult to decide what his whole object wa&
Some suppose that he wanted to gain over the
Scottish Parliament, as he did in fact gain
over, by presents and favours, many Scottish
lords and men of pow^er. Some think that h«
went to get proofs against tlje Parliamentary
leaders in England of their having treasonably
invited the Scottish people to come and hclf
them. With whatever object he went ti
Scotland, he did little good by going. At
the instigation of the Eakl of Montkosi, a
desperate m.an who was then in prison foi
j)lotting, he tried to kidnap three Scottish
lords, who escaped. A committee of the Par-
liament at home, who had followed to watch
him, wrote an account of this bicmEiiT,
as it was called, to the Parliament ; the Par
liament made a fresh stir about it ; were (m
feigned to be) much alarmed for themselves
and wrote to the Eakl ok Essex, the com
mander-in-chief, for a guard to protect them
It is not a>>solutely proved that the Kin| i
plotted in Ireland besides, but it is very pro
bablc that he did, and that the Queen did too,
and that ho had some wild hope of gaining the
Irish people owr to Ui» side by favouring a
rise among them. Whethtr or no, they did
rise in a most brutal, savage, and atrocious
rebellion ; in which, encouraged by their
priests, thoy comraittud Buch ntrocitiis upon
numbers of the Cngiish, of both se.vo-s »nd
of all ages, as nobody could believe, but for
their being rt'latod, on oath, >>y ijye-wilnesse^t.
Whether one hundred thousand or twa hun-
dred thoiis;iiid f'n)teitants were miinlorcd in
this outbrcali, is uncertain ; but, tliut it wiis
US ruthless and barbarousi an outbreak as
eycT was knijwn among any savage people on
earth, is absolutely certain.
The King cjirae home from Scotland, detar-
miiu'd to make a great struggle for his lost
power. He believed that, through his presents
and favours, Scotland would take no part
against him ; and the Lonl Mayor of London
received him with such a magniticent dinner
that he thought he must have become popular
again in Kngland. It would take a good rnany
Lord Mayors, however, to make a people, and
the King soon found himself mistaken.
Not so soon, though, but that there was a
great opposition in the Parliament to a cele-
brated paper put forth by Pym and Hampden
and the rest, called "The Remosstkanck,"
which set forth uU the illegal acts thrit the
King had ever done, but politely laid the
blame of Ihem on his bad advisers. Even
when it was pft.%.«ed and presented to him, the
King still thou<rht hiro.'+elf strong enough to
discharge Balfour from his command in the
Tower, and to put in his place a man of had
character : to whom the Commons instantly
objected, and whom he was obligc<l to
abandon. At this time, the old outcry about
the Bishops became louder than ever, and the
old Archbishop of York was so near being
murdered as he went down to the Hoiisu of
Lorrls — being laid hold of by the mob iiml
riolently knocked al>out, in return for very
foolishly scolding a shrill boy who was yelping
out "No Bishops 1" — that he sent for all the
Bishops who were in town and proposed to
them to sign a declaration that as they could
no longer, without danger to their lives,
attend their duty in Parliament, they pro-
tested against the lawfulness of everything
done in their absence. This they nsked the
King to Send to the House of Lords, which
ho did. Then the House of Commons im-
peached the whole party of Bishops and sent
them off to the Tower.
Taking no warning from this, but encou-
raged by their being a moderate party in
the Parliament who objected to these strong
measure.*, the King, on the third of January,
one thousand six hundred and forty-two, took
the rashc.^t step that ever woa taken by
mortil man.
Of his own accord, and wHIiout a<lvicci, bo
sent the Attorney-Oencral to the Elouse of
Lords to accuse of treason certain memhera of
Parliament, who, aa popular leaders, were the
most obnoxious to him : Lord Kimboltos,
Sir Arthi'k Uaselkio, Dexzu. Hdlljs, Joidi
P» M (they u.scd to call him King Pytn, he
Tiossessed such power and looked so big"), Joint
Hakpden, and VVili.um Stk;jdb. The housed
of these members h»< caujied to be cJitered,
and their papers to be sealed up. A.t the
same time, he sent a messenger to the House of
Commons demanding to have the live gentle-
men who were members of that House imme-
diately produce<L To this the Hou^e replied
that they should appear as soon as there was
any legal charge against them, and immo-
dialely adjoumeil
Next day, the House of C-ommons send into
the City to let tlie Lord Mayor know that
their privileges arc invaded by tho King,
and that there is no safety for anybody or
anything. Then, when the tlve members are
gone out of the way, down comes the King
himself, with all his guard and from two to
three hundred geritleineu and soldiers, of
whom the greater part were anned. Theso
he leaves in tho hall, and then, with his
nephew at his side, goe^ into the House, takes
off his hat, atid walks up to the Speaker's
chair. The Speaker leaves it, the King stands
in front of it, looks a>»otit him steadily fi>r a
little while, and says he has come for those
five members. No one speaks, and then he
calls John Pym by name. No one .'speaks,
and then ho calls Deuzil llollis by name.
No one speak.s, and then he asks the Speaker
of the House where those five members are?
The Speaker, answering on his knee, noblj*
replies that he is the servant of that House,
and that he has neither eyes to see, nor
tongue to speak, ani'tliiiig but what the Hou.so
commands him. Upon this, the King, beaten
from that time evermore, replies that he will
seek them him.self, for they have committed
treason; and goes out, with his hut in his
hand, amid some audible murmurings from
the members.
No wonls can descrilxj the hurry that
arose out of doors when all this was known.
The five members had gone for safijty to a
house in Colem.in Street, in the City, where
they were guarded all night ; ami indeed the
whole city watched in arms like an army. At
ten o'clock in the morning, the King, alrca<ly
frightened at what ho had ilone, came to the
Guildhall, with only half a dozen lords, and
made a speech to the people, hoping that
they would not shelter tho.se whom he accused
of treason. Nest day, ho issue<i a proclama-
tion for the apprehension of the five members ;
but the Parliament minded it so little that
they made great arransements for having
them brought down to Westminster in great
state, five days afterwards. The King was so
alarmed now at his own Imprudence, if not
for his own safety, that he left his palace at
Wliitchall, and vicnt away with hid Queen
and children to Hampton Court
It was the eleventh of ^fay when the flro
members were carried in state and triumph
\,
72
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
to Westminster, They were token by water.
Tlic river could not be seen for the boats on
it ; and the fire members were hemmed in by
barges full of men and great gims, i-cady to
protect them, at any cost Along the Strand
a large body of tlie train-bands of London,
under their commander, Skippon, marcheil
to be ready to assist the little fleet Beyond
them, came a crowd who choked the streets,
roaring incessantly about the Bishops and the
Papistii, and crying out contemptuously as
they passed Whitehall, " What has become of
the'King ?" With this great noise outside the
House of Commons, and with great silence
within, Mr. Pym rose and informed the House
of the great kindness with which they had
been received in the City. Upon that, the
House called the sheriff in and thanked
them, and requested the train-bands, under
their commander Skippon, to guard the
House of Commons every day. Then, came
four thousand men on horsclDack out of Buck-
inghamshire, offering their services as a guard
too, and bearing a petition to the King, com-
plaining of the injury tliat had been done to
Mr. Hampden, who was their county man
and much beloved and honoured.
When the King set off for Hampton Court,
the gentlemen and soldiers who had been
with him, followed him out of town as far
as Kiiigston-upon-Th.imes, and next day
IjOtH Digby came to them from the King at
Hampton Court, in his coach and six, to
inform tliem that the King accepted their
protection. This, the Parliament said, was
making war against Uic kingdom, and Lord
Digby fled abroad. The Parliament then
imtnc'(lial(,>ly applied themselves to getting
hold of the militory power of the country,
well knowing that the King was already try-
ing liard to use it against them, and had
secretly sent the Earl of Newcastle to Hull,
to secure a valuable magazine of arms and
gunpowder that was there. In those times,
every county had its own magazines of anns
and powder for its own train-bands or
militia ; so, the Parliament brought in a bill
claiming the right (which up to this time had
belonged to the King} of appointing the Lord
Lieutenants of counties, who commanded
these train-bands; and, also of having all
the forts, castles, and garrisons in the king-
dom, put into the hands of such governors as
they, the Parliament, ;uld confide in. It ako
pas^cd a law depriving the Bishops of their
votes. The King gave his assent to that bill,
but ivnuld not abandon the right of appointing
the Lord Lieutenants, though he said he was
willing to appoint such as might be sugpcstcd
to him by the Parliament When the Earl cf
Pembroke asked him whether he would not
give way on that question for a time, ho saiu,
" By (rod ! not for one hour I" and upon thii
ho and the Parliament went to war.
His young daughter M-as betrothed to the
Prince of Orange. On pretence of taking her
to the count] y of her future husband, the
Queen was already got safely away to Hol-
land, there to pawn the Crown jowcla for
money to raise an army on the King's
side. The Lord Admiral being sick, the
House of Commons now named the Earl
of Warwick to hold his place for a year.
The King named another gentleman ; the
House of Commons took its own way, and the
Earl of Warwick became Lord Admiral with-
out the King's consent The Parliament
sent orders down to Hull to have that maga-
zine removed to London ; the King went
down to Hull to take it himself The citizeu
would not admit him into the town, and the
governor would not admit him into the
castle. The Parliament resolved that what-
ever the two Houses passed, and the King
would not consent to, should be called an
Ordinance, and should be as much a law as
if he did consent to it The King protested
against thi.s, and gave notice that these ordi-
nances were not to be obeyed. Tho King, at-
tended by tho majority of the House of Peers,
and by many members of the House of
Common.«, established himself at York. The
Chancellor went to him with tlie Great Seal,
and the Parliament made a new Great Seal
The Queen sent over a ship full of arms and
ammunition, and tho King issued letters to
borrow money at high interest The Pariia-
mcnt raised twenty regiments of foot and
seventy-five troops of horse ; and the peopb
wUlingly aided them with their money, platc^
jewellery, and trinkets — the married women
even with their wedding-rings. Every mea>
ber of Parliament who could raise a troop «
a regiment in his own part of the coantiT,
dressed it according to his ti.sto and in mi
own colours, and commanded it Foremoit
among them all, Oliver Cromwell raised a
troop of hor.se — thoroughly in earnest and
thoroughly well anned — who were, porfaap^
the best soldiers that ever were seen.
In some of their proceedings, this famoa
Parliament unquestionably passed the bonndi
of all previous law and custom, yielded to anl
favoured riotous assemblages of the peopK
and acted tyrannically in imprisoning boom
who differed from tlie popular leaders. But,
again you arc always to remember that tbt
twelve years during which the King had had
his own wilful way, had gone before ; and thit
nothing could make the times what thty
might, cculd, would, or should have been, if
those twelve years had never rolled away.
//
'• Fofniliar in thtir JToutJu tu HOUSEHOLD WORDS,"
HOUSEHOLD WOUDS.
A WEEKLY JOLTiNAL.
CONDUC-TED BY CHARLES DICKENS.
Vou VIII.
McELRATH <k BAKKER. PUBLISHERS.
Oftic* No. II S^ace* nuwt, Niw YoaK.
Vi'mnK Ko. 183
SI.AXG.
It has been a pleasant conceit vrith philo-
sophers and wriltrs to disUnguish the suc-
cessive agva of what, in the plcnitudo of their
wL^lijiD, they call the world, bj sonii.' nit-tflllic
ntcknaine. Wo have had the Golileii .\go,
and the Silver Age, the Age of Iron, luui ilie
Age of Uronzc ; this present era will, por-
hapa, be knoivn to our grandchildren as the
age of Electro-jilating, from its general
tendency to .sh/tms an<I counterfeits ; and,
when the capiiul of the Anglo-Saxon Empire
fihall bo, BOine liinidn-ds of 3'ears hence, some-
where in the South Seas, or in the centre of
Afrioa or interior of Chiun, tlic age that l.s to
come may he kno«-n us the .Age of Platina
or that of Potiiosititii, or sntne one of the
hundreds of ne«' iiutiis, which will, of course,
be di.icovcred by tliat time.
However, this present age may be di^tin-
guitihcd by future generations whether fcrru-
ginously, or auriferously, or nrgentinally, there
can be no iloubt that the Victorian era wnli
be known hcreailcr — and anything but favour-
ably, I surrnise — as an epoch of tlie most un-
scnipulout heterodoxy hi the application of
names. What was onco occasionally tole-
rated *i a humorous aberration, afterwards
degenerated into folly and perversity, and
is now A vice and a nuisance. Without
the slightest regard to the proprietieu of
nomeiicUturb, or to what I may call
the unities of signiQcation, we apply
names to objects, abstmcliunK, and persons
stupidly, irrationally, and inconsistently : com-
pk-ti'ly ignoring the nature, the quality, the
gvnder, the structure of the thing, wc prefix
to it a name which not only fails to convey
an idea of what it materially is, but actually
obscures and mystilies it, .\ persistence
in such a coui-»e must inevitably tend to
debase, and corrupt that currency of speech
which it has been the aim of the greatest
scholar:; and publicLst-s, from the days of
Elizabeth downwards, to elevate, to improve,
and to rctiiic; and, if we continue the reck-
le-^s and indiscriminato importation and in-
corporation into our Ungn,ig« of every cant
tcnii of speech from the columns of American
nuw.<spapers, every Canvas Town epithet from
liic vocabularies of gold-diggcra, every ba^tanl
cln-^ici'in dragged head and shoulders from
Tou VJU.— :*o. iss
a lexicon by an advertising tradesman to puff
his wares, every slip-slop Gallicism from
the shelves of the circulating library ; if
we persist in yoking liaraltts of adjectives
to Hccubas of nouns, the noble English
tongue will become, fifty years hence, a mere
dialect of colonial idiomK, enervated ultramon-
tjinisms and literate slang. The fertility of a
language may degenerate into tlio fecutencc
of weeds and tares; should we not rather,
instead of raking and heaping together worth-
less noveltiesof expression, endeavour to weed,
to c.vpurgatc, to cpuratc ; to render, once more,
wholesome and pellucid that which was once
a " well of English undefilcd," and rescue it
from the sewerage of verbiage and slang?
The Thames is to be purified ; why not the
language ? Should we not, instead of dabbling
and dirtying the stream, endeavour to imitate
those praiseworthy men of letters wi»o, at
Atliens, in that miserable and most forlorn
capital of the burlesque kingdom of Greece,
have laboured, and successfully laboured, iu
the Cice of discountenance, indifference, igno-
rance, and a foreign court, to clear the Gavk
language from the barbarisms of words and
phra.ses, Venetian, Genoese, French, Lingua
Franca, Arabic. Turki.sh, .\rmenian, Spanish,
Sclavonic, Teutonic which, iu the course of
successive centuries of foreign domination and
oppression, had crept into it ; and now (though
in the columns of base-priced ncivspapers,
printed on I'otten paper witli broken type)
give the debates of a venal chamber, and tho
summary of humdrum passing events, in the
language of Plato and Sorw^tes ? These men
have done more good and have raised a more
enduring monument to the genius of tlicir
country, than if they had reared again every
column of the Acropolis, or brought back
every fragment of the Elgin marbles from
Great Russell Street, Bloomsbur)'.
It is no c-xcusc for this word-sinning of ours
to say, that we have Icamt a gre4»t portion
of our new-fangled names and expressions
from America. The utterer is as bad ns thii
cohicr. It is true that our trans-nllantic
cousins have not only set us the example, but
have frequently surpassed us in their eager-
ness to coir» new words, and to apply names
to things w\th which they have not tho
remotest relation. The Americans call New
York the " empire city," »a if a city— and in
I
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[CeodaoUA Wf
I
I v.-iiiMi': moreover — rauld bo under any
ii'-u:ii-.tiiiicos an empire. Another town of
. . i.> is the "crescent city," and so fond of
i:.- iiaiiiu of city arc they, that they fre-
1 i- iitly apply it to a group of half-a-dozen
l",' oiibins and a whisky shop in a marsh, on
( K- banks of some muchly, fevcr-hauntcd
liwr. Every speculator in "town lots"
(sl.'in^ ngain) in tho States has founded balf-
;i-diiz(.n such "cities."
Ill tiio United States if Italf-a-dozun news-
]<:i|K-r editors, post-masters, and dissenting
ii!ii!isier.«, two or three revolvers, a bowie
kiiifi', :i tooth-pick, and a plug of tobacco pet
toirtilicr in the bar room of an hotel, tlie
niciting is forthwith called a "caucus" or a
•• niii>.s meeting." If Joe! J. Wainwright
blows out General Zebedce Ruffle's brains on
the New Orleans levee, it is not murder but
a " dilliculty." In South America, if a score
of swarthy outlaws — calling themselves gen-
erals and colonels, and who were muleteers
the week before — meet in an outhouse to
concert the assassination of tho dictator of
the republic, (who may have been the land-
lord of a renta or a hide jobber a year ago)
the ragged conclave calls itself a ^^ pronuncia-
liu'iito."
And touching the use of the terms "mons-
ter," "mammoth," "leviathan," how very
trying have those misplaced words become !
Their violent tran.sformation from substan-
tives into adjectives is the least of their
wrongs; the poor harmless animals have
been outraged in a hundred ways besides.
The monster, I believe, first became ac-
quainted with a meeting in connection with
that great agitator, so calm now in Glasnevin
cemetery, and whoso agitation has been fol-
lowed by such a singular tranquillity and
apathy in the land he agitated. As some-
thing possibly, but not necessarily expressing
hugeness (for the most diminutive objects
may be monstrous) tho term of monster
was not inapplicable. But in a very few
months every re-union of four-and-twcnty
fiddlers in a row was dubbed a monster con-
cert; a loaf made with a double allowance of
dough was a monster loaf; every confec-
tioner's new 3'ear's rafile was a monster
twelflh cake; wo had monster slop-selling
shops, and the monster pelargonium drove
our old familiar friend, the enormous goose-
berry, from the field. Then came the mam-
moth. An xVmcrican speculator — who in the
days when spades were spades, would have
been called a showman, but who called him-
self a " professor and a tiger king," neither of
which he wits — had a horse, some hands above
the ordinary standard of horseflesh, and
forthwith railed him the mammoth horse.
That obsolete animal the Mammoth being
reputed to have been of vast dimensions ,
gave to the horse this new nickname; but
in a short time there started up from all
auarters of tlic Anglo-Saxon globe, from
10 sky, the earth, and from tbo waters
under tho earth, a plethora of mammoths.
The wretched antediluvian bea.st was made
to stand godfather to unnumbered things
that crawled, and things tliat crept, and
things that liad life, and things that had
not. The mammoth caves of Kentucky
howled from acro.ss the Atlantic. Peaceable
tradesmen hung strange signs and wonden
over their shop-doors ; and we heard of mam-
moth dust pans, and mammoth loo tables,
and mammoth tea trays. Large conger cela,
fruits of unusual growth, and cheeses made
considerably larger than was convenient,
were exhibited in back streetii at sixpence a
head, under the false pretence of being mam-
moths. If anybody made anything, or saw
anything, or wrote anything big, it became
a mammoth, tliat the credulous might suppose
the Titans, Anak and all his sons, were come
a^ain, and that there were giants in the land.
Vi'v wait patiently for a plesiosaurus pump-
kin, or an ichthyosaurus hedgehog ; and we
shall have them in good time, together with
leviathan lap-dogs, behemoth butterflies, and
gi-eat-sea-scrpent parliamentary speeches.
Brigand.s, burglars, beggars, impostors, and
swindlers will have their slang jargon to the
end of the chapter. Mariners too, will nse the
terms of their craft, and mechanics will borrow
from the technical vocabulary of their tnde.
And there arc cant words and terms tradi-
tional in schools and colleges, and in the
playing of games, which are orally authorised
if not set down in written lexicography. Bat
so universal has the use of slang terms be-
come, that, in all societies, they are fircqnentljr
substituted for, and have almost usurped W
place of wit An audience will sit is a
theatre, and listen to a strine of briOiiDt
witticisms with perfect immobility ; but W
some fellow rush forward and roar out "Itli
all serene," or " Catch 'cm alive, oh I" (tMl
last is sure to take) pit, boxes and gaUdj
roar with laughter.
I cannot find much tendency to the cmpkr-
mcnt of slang in tho writings of onr eiii^
humorist.s. Setting aside obsolete words ud
phrases rendered obscure by involution, that
arc not a hundred incomprehensible tcnofk
all Shakspeare's comedies. The glut of em-
mentators to the paucity of disputed wordiil
the best evidence of that AVc can appreciik
the humour of Butler, the quaintnca d
Fuller, the satire of Dryden, the wit of Cat
gn-ve and AVycherly, nay, even the ««'
rilities of Mr. Tom Brown, as clparly il
though they had been written yesterday. In
Swift's Polite Conversation, among all the
homely and familiar sayings there ia no slang;
and 3'ou may be sure, if there had been any rf
that connuodity floating about in polite ciralci
then, the Dean would have been the man IR
dish it up for posterity. Fielding and Smollrt^
in all their pictures of life, with all thrir
coarseness and indecency, put little clnng into
the mouths of their characters. Even Mr.
Jonathan Wild the great, who, from hb
DidM.1
SLANQ.
76
M ftnd antccedenta, must hftvc been a
»f slang in ererj shape, makes but
of it in his conversation. And in
•Ogiie's epic — that biographux fnyitioaa
Bfcgars' Open* — we can understand
cnlh^ Filch, Jtnny Diver, and Mat of
Mint without dictionarj' or glossary.
)nly man who wrote slang was Mr. Ned
I ; but that worthy cannot be taken as
xiuti|)lc of the polite^ or even of the
vy conversation of his day.
Py lie objected to nic timt although
ay be a large collection of slang
outing about, they are made use
by loose, or at best illiterate per-
and arc banished from refined society.
may be begging the question, but I
the truth of the olijcction. If words
I be fiiund in standard dictionaries, not
rlscd by writings received as classics,
for which no literary or gramniatical
lenls run be adduced, are to be called
— 1 will aver that you shall not read
ingle parliainenLiry debate a.s reported
first-elaas newspaper, without meeting
scores of slang words. U'hatcver may
kc claims of the Commons' Jlouse to
tivc vrisJom, it is as a whole an assembly
acated gentlemen. From Mr. Speaker
chair to the Cabinet niiiustera whisper-
ihind it — from mover to seconder, from
l>!uo protectionist to e.xtrcmcst rudical,
arry's New House echoes and re-echoes
ilang. Yo»i may hear slang every day
m from barristers in their robes, at
iDciis table, at every bar me.<is, at every
e coinmonfi, in every club dining-room.
iin, with great modesty and profound
i.4sii.in, I must express my opinion either
slang should be proscribed, bauished,
bited, or that a New Dictjonnry should
>mpiled, in which all llio slang terms
a use among educated men, and made
Tin publications of est.iblished character,
d be rc^i.-^tered, etymologised, explained,
itain|icu with the le.xicogriiphic stamp,
we uiay have ehiijiter and verse, mint
;(«ll-tnark for our sl.ing. I,et the new
nary couUiin a well-digested array of the
tuile of synijDvms for familiar objects
»g about ; let them give a local habitfl-
ind a name to all the little by-blows of
ugc skulking and rambling about our
h, like th« nigged little Bedouins about
hamelcss streets, and give Ihcin a setlle-
and a parisli. If the evil of sbng has
ti too gigriuticj to be suppressed, let us at
give it decency by legalising it ; else,
L-dl_v, this age will be branded by pos-
with the shamo of jabbering a broken
:t in pri.'ferencc to speaking a nervous
Ignified language ; and our wits nill be
cd at and undervalued as mere word-
jrs, who supplied the lack of humour by
jar facility of low langunge.
It coni]iiler of such a dictionary would
DO light tuk. I call imagine him at
work in the synonymous department. Only
consider what avast multitude of equivalents
the perverse ingenuity of our slanginoss has
invented for ihe one generic word Money.
Money — the bare, plain, simple wonl itself —
has a sonorous, significant ring in its sound,
and might have sufficed, yet we substitute for
it — tin, rhino, blunt, rowdy, stumpy, dibbs,
browns, stuff, ready, mopusses, shiners, dust,
chips, chinkei-s, pcAvter, horscnails, brads.
Seventeen synonyms to one word ; and then
wo come to species — pieces of money. Sove-
reigns are yellow boj's, coolers, quidk ; crown-
pieces are bulls and cart-wheels ; shillings,
bobs, or benders ; sixpenny-piccesarc fiddlers
and tizzies ; fourpenny-pieccs, joeys or bits ;
pence, browns, or coppers and mags. To say
that a man is without money, or in poverty,
some persons remark that he is down on his
luck, hard up, stuuipe<l up, in Queer Street,
under a cloud, up a tree, quisby, done up, sold
up, in a Hs. To express that ho is rich, we
say that he is warm, comfortable, that he has
feathered his nest, that he has lots of tin, or
that ho has plenty of stuff, or is worth a
plum.
For the one word drunk, besides the autho-
rised synonyms tipsy, inebriated, intoxicated,
1 find of unauthorised or slang equivalents
the astonishing number of thirty-two, viz. : in
liquor, disguised therein, lushy, bosky, buffy,
boo2y, mojis and broflms, half-snjis-ovcr, far-
gone, tight, not able to see a hole through a
ladder, three sheets in the wind, fojrgy,
screwed, hazy, sewed up, moony, muddled,
muzzy, swipey, lumpy, obfuscated, muggy,
beerj', winoy, slewed, on the rnn-tnn, on the
re-raw, groggy, ploughed, cut and in hia
cups.
For one article of drink, gin, wo have ten
synonyms: max, juniper, gatter.duke, jackey,
tape, blue-ruin, cream of the valley, white
satin, old Tom.
Synonymous with a man, are a cove, a
chap, a cull, an article, a codger, a buffer. A
gentleman is a swell, a nob, a tiptopper ; a
low person is a snob, a sweep, and a scurf,
and in Srotlaml, a gutter-blood. Thieves
arc prigs, cracksmen, inouchers, goiiophs,
go-alongs. To steal is to prig, to jjinch, to
collar, to nail, to grab, to nab. To go or run
away is to hook it, to bolt, to tike tracks, to
absquatulate, to slope, to step it, to mizzle, to
paddle, to cut, to cut your slick, to evaporate,
to vamose, to be off, to vanish, and to tip
yotir mgs a pillop. For the verb to beat I can
at once Biui fourteen synonyms : thus to thrash,
to lick, to leather, to hide, to tan, to l.irrup,
to wallop, to pummel, to whack, to whop, to
towel, to maui, to quit, to pay. A horse is a
nng, a pnid, a tit, a .s^rew. A donkey is a
moke, a ncddy. A policcmnn is n i>ccK'r, a
Imbbv, a criiiher ; a .soldier a swaddy, a
loljster, a red herring. To pntvn is to spout,
to pop, to lumber, to blue. Tlie hands
are mauleys, and the fingers flij>pcrs. The
feet are steppers; the boots craosbclls, or
76
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[OomIkM t)
trotter cases, or grabbers. Food is grub,
prog, and crug ; a hackney cab is a
!!hoful ; a Punch's show a schwasslc-box ; a
five pound note is a flimsy ; a watch a ticker ;
anything of good quality or character is stun-
ning, ripping, out-and-out ; a magistrate is a
beak, and a footman a flunkey. Not less can
I set down as slang the verbiage by which
coats are transformed into bis-uniques, al-
pftoa.4, vicunas, ponchos, anaxandrians, and
siphonias.
Tlio slang expressions I have herein set
down I have enumerated, exactly as they
have occurred to me, casually. If I had made
research, or taxed my memory for any con-
siderable time, I have no doubt that I could
augment the slang terms and synonyms to at
least double their amount And it is possible
that an accomplished public will be able to
supply from their own recollection and experi-
ence a goodly addition to my list The
arrival of every mail, the extension of every
colony, the working of every Australian
mine would swell it Placers, squatters,
diggers, clearings, nuggets, cradles, claims —
where were all these words a dozen years ago?
and what arc they, till they are marshalled
in a dictionary, but slang? We may say
the same of the railway phraseology : buffers,
switches, points, stokers, and coal bunks —
whence is their etymology, and whence their
authority ?
But slang docs not end here. It goes higlier
— to the very top of the social Olympus.
If the Duchess of Downderry invites some
dozen of her male and female fashionable
acquaintances to tea and a dance afterwards,
what do you think she calls her tea-party ?
A the dantnntc — a dancing tea. Docs tea
dance ? Can it dance ? Is not this libel upon
honest Dohea and Souchong slang? — ^pure,
unadulterated, unmitigated slang.
The slang of the fashionable world is
mostly imported from France ; an unmeaning
gibberish of Gallicisms runs through English
fashionable conversation, and fashionable
novels, and accounts of fashionable parties in
the fashionable newspapers. Yet, ludicrou.';ly
enough, immediately the fiishionablc magnates
of England seize on any French idiom, the
French themselves not only universally
abandon it to us, but positively repudiate it
altogether from their idiomatic vocabulary.
If jou were to tell a well-bred Frenchman
that such and such an aristocratic marriage
was on the tajpit, he would stare with astonish-
ment, and look down on the carpet in the
stirtlcd endeavour to find a marriage in so
unusual a place. If you were to talk to him
of the henu, monJe, he would imagine you
meant the world which God made, not lialf-
a-dnzen streets and squares between H)'de
Park Comer and Chelsea Bun House. The
thf danaantt would be completelyinexplicablc
to him. If you were to point out to him the
Dowager Lady Grimguffin acting as chaperon
to IaAj Amanda Crcamville, ho would
imagine you were referring to the petit
Chaperon Rouge — to little Red Riding Hood.
ITe might just understand what was metnt
by ti»-a-ti», entremet*, and some others of the
flying horde of frivojous little foreign
slangisms hovering about fashionable cookery
and fashionable furniture ; but thi ec-fburtiu
of them would seem to him as barbaroaa
French provincialisms, or, at best, but as
antiquated and obsolete expressions picked
up out of the letters of MademoiseOe Scuderi^
or the talcs of Cribillon the younger.
But, save us, your ladyship, there are thoa-
sands of Englishmen who might listen to
your ladyship for an hour without nnder-
stan(''ng half-a-dozen words of your disconn&
When you speak of the la&ifauxpaA, of poor
Miss Limberfoot's sad misalllanee, of the
Reverend Mr. Caudlecup's being " so full of
soul," of the enchanting rouladea of that n-
vishing eantatri<x Martinuzzi, of your dinner
of the day before being recherchf, of your gem
being insolent and inattentive, how shall plain
men refrain from staring wondcrstruck at
your unfathomable discourse ?
And when your ladyship d«es condeacmd
to speak English, it is only with a deligfatfU
mincingness of accent and a liberal use of
superlatives. The Italian singer you heaid
last night was a "divine creature ;" if wa
are slightly tired or dull you are "awfullf
bored'' or "devoured with ennui;" if yourfta
be pale you vow you are a " perfect fright;*
if a gentleman acquaintance volunteer a nqr
mild joke he is a "quizzical monstec''— •
dreadful quiz, he is so awfully satirical : arf
the comic actor last night was " killing;" nl
Julie, my child, hand me my nnaigr^ti,mi
take a shilling out of my }iorte'tnonnme,ui
tell Adolfu to get soma jujubet for Fido;a(
let me see, if I go out in the pilentum t»dqi
or stay, the barouche (we have a ehar^-iut
down at our place. Doctor), I will wear^
moire antique and my ruehe of Brussda In
and my mantelet, and my chatelaine^ trithd
the "charms" Lord Bruin Fitzurse hna^
me from Dresden, and then we will taki ■
drive into the Park, and I will leave a tuii
Bojannee LoU's for my next " Thuradaj,"il
really m}' dear " lions" are so scarce wr,
that even Bojannee Loll will be an acqi^
tion : and so on.
I believe the abominable slanc practinrf
writing P. P. C. on a card of leave-takii(
and R. S. V. P. at the bottom of a letter vbt
you wii^h an answer to it, is gone ont i
fashion, and I rejoice that it has.
Young Lord Fitzurse speaks of himrf
and of his ari.<;tocratic companions as "tt'
lows" (very often pronounced '* fajYtmifi
if he is going to drive a four-hom onA
down to Epsom Races, he is going to "trf
his drag down to the Derby." Lord BaUf
Robbin's great coat, which he admhi^
is "down the road." An officer in *•
tenth hussars is "a man in the tenth ;*•
pretty young lady is a " neat little Wtj ;*>
t
SLANG.
77
)ich 13 not a drag (or dkvag) u a
a " cask ;" his lordship's ludginga
1 Street are his "crib," his "dig-
he " Langs out" there. His father
^vemor;'' his bill discounter a
, old screw,'' if he refuses to do a
iff" for him. When Ills fiicnd has
1 his estate, he pronounces it to be
' Everyibing thnt pleases him is
J hj Jore!" everything that dis-
pi (from bad sherry to a ■nTit from
is " infcrnaL"
ierc is tho slang of criticism. Lite-
Mtic, artistic, and scientific. Such
esthetic, transcendental, the " har-
thc unities, a myth: such phrases
Eiisite ntorqeau on the big drum,
e rendering of John the Baptist's
" keeping," " harmony," " mid<lle
"atrial perspective," "delicate
• "ncrvoua chiaroscuro," and the
kiu<le uiic of pell-mcil, without the
don to their real nieajiiogs, their
their real rcquiremcnlis.
le Stage has iU sJang, both before
pd the curtain. Actors speak of
[«uch a farco being a " screamer,"
tnd such a tragedy being " diiiniied "
td." IC an actor forgets his part
Ibo stage, he is said to " stick " and
i" the actors who may be pcrform-
kira, by putting them out in their
;"part" has so many "lengths;"
It " ran " so many nights. Belvilie
I the country to "star" it When
I are forthcoming on .Saturday, tho
in't walk" — a benelit is a " ben,"
" sal ;" an actor is not engaged to
ly or comedy, but to "do the heavy
F or " Becond low comedy," and when
•of an engagement he is said to be
Ollar."
brough all grades and professioa')
Ib this omnipresent slang,
i immense number of new wohIh
jbeing cnntinu.Hlly coined and dissc-
Riroughout our gigantic periodical
i conceive, the chief difficulty of the
guage to foreigners. The want of
■nd competent authority as to what
ft classical and what merely slang,
Mete and what improper, must be a
pcrjHjtual tribulation and uncertainty
shappy stranger. If he is to take
and Walker for standards, a waJk
iring Cross to Temple Bar, an hour
ire, or an evening in society, will
perturbed tympanum with a deluge
■ conceminz which Johnson and
are absoluldy mute. How is the
to make bis election ? Suppo.se tlic
ite Monsieur, or Herr, or Signor
dress himself to write, as De Lolme
taliso on tho Engliiib constitution.
ke wore (a begin a paas&gc thus: —
I Lord Protocol was an out-and-out
Sir Roddy lapewax wsa not such a
flat as to bo taken in. He proved the gammon
of Lord Protocol's move, and, though ha
thought him green, did him completely
brown." How many young politicians would
not think it beneath them to Uilk in this
manner, yet how bitterly tho foreign essayist
would be ridiculed for his conrcreational
style of composition.
The French have an Academy of Letters,
and the dictionary of that Academy, pub-
lished after forty years labour, nearly two
centuries ago, is still the standard model of
elegance and propriety in composition and
conversation. The result of this has been
tlmt every work of hterary excellence in
France follows the phraseology, and within
very little the orthography' which we find in
the poetry of Racine and Boilcau, and the
prose of Pascal and Fenelon. And tlic French
has become, moreover, the chief diplomatic
conversational and commercial language in tho
world. It i.scuiTcnt everywhere. It i.s neither so
copious;, so sonorous, or so dignified as English
or German, but it is fixed. The Emperor of
Rus.sia or the Sultan of Turkey may write and
speak (accent apart) as good French as any
Parisicnne. But in England, an Engligbinaii
even has never done learning his own lan-
guage. It has no rules, no limits; its ortho-
graphy and pronunciation arc almost entirely
arbitrary ; its words are like a provisional
committee, with power to add to their num-
ber. A foreigner may hope to rend and
write English tolerably well, after assiduous
study; but he will never speak it without a
long residence in England ; and even then lie
will be in no better ca.so than the English
bted Englishman, continually learning, con-
tinually hearing wonls of whose signification
bo has not the slightest idea, continually
perplexed to as what shoiild be considered
a familiar idiom, and what inadmissible
slang.
To any person who devotes himself to
literary composition in the English language
tho redundancy of unauthorised words and
expressions must always be a source of un-
utterable annoyance and vexation. Should
he adopt the phraseology and style of the
authors of tho erafi of Elizabeth or Anno he
may be censured as obsolete or as perversely
(|tiaint Should be turn to the Latin tongue
for the construction of his phrases and the
choice of liis language, he will be StigmatLsed
as pedantic or with thnt grave charge of
using hard words. And, should he take
advantage of what he hears and sees in his
own days and under bra own eyes, and in-
corporate into his language those idiomatio
words and expressions ho gathers from tliu
daily affairs of life and the daily conversation
of hia fellow men, ho will have no lack "J
critics to ttU him that he writes insufferubie
vulgarity and slang.
Her Miije.sty Queen Anne is dead; but for
Her Majesty's decease we should have had
an Academy of Letters aud an Academy
I
I
78
HOTTSF.IIOLD WORDS.
[CoBhcMlf
I
Dictionary in England. There arc two opinions
in tliis country relative to the utility of acade-
mics ; and, without advocating the formation
of such an institution T may be permitted
submissively to plead that we really do want
a new dictionary — ^if not in justice to our-
selves, at least in justice to foreigners, and in
justice to our great-grcat-grand-children.
A KORMAN STORY.
Not many evenings ago, when the south-
west wind had cooled the atmosphere, I was
sauntering with my dog on the top of tho
cliffs not fiir firom Fecamp, in Normandy. All
at once my dog made a halt, pricked up his
ears, and uttered a low growl. A few seconds
ancrwards I perceived in the shade a man
who had also stopped on my approach. I
called my dog ; the man came forward ; and,
by his cloak lined with sheepskin, I recognised
one of those numerous coast-guards, whose
duty it irt to watch all night long in little
liiding-places that are built upon the cliff^!,
more than three hundred yards above the
lcvi-1 of the sea.
" You have got there," he observed, as he
laid his hand upon my dog's head, " an excel-
lent companion for the evening. A real
Newfoundlander," he added, "I once had
one like him, but was obliged to part with
him. We aro no longer allowed to take
dogs out with us. To be sure, they would
discover a smuggling transaction sooner than
we could by ourselves; but they would also,
inform ns of the visits of our night inspec-
tor.«, and that would not exactly suit them."
While gossipping thus, he gave mu to under-
stind that this was his native place; that,
although he was not particularly rich, with
his sal.-iry of six hundred francs a year, he
was yet glad to be home again. "And,
Monsieur," he continuc<l, " I have not enjoyed
that pleasure long. Although T have now
been here three days I cannot literally say
that I have slept under my family roof; for I
have only every fourth night to myself."
During the course of this speech, he leaned
forward from time to time, and peeped over
the edge of the cliff.
" Do you hear anything?" I asked.
" No," he replied ; " but I am looking for
a grotto about which my mother used for-
nu-r1y to tell mo a curious story. The spots
on which we have passed the happiest mo-
ments of our lives, are old friends whom we
are (Klightcd to meet again. Look there —
that's the very place." And he pointed with
his finger to a cavern in tho cliff, wliich im-
/trintofl upon its white side a vast and irre-
gular black spot. I will spare you the relation
of the manoouvring which I employed, to
induce the coast-guard to tell me his story.
AVe sat ourselves down inside his little hut,
and he began : —
" In the first place, Monsieur, I as.<*nre you
that neither my mother nor myself ever knew
the persons whose history I am going to teD
you. The talc was told to my mother, as
she told it to me, and as I shall shortly tell it
to you.
"A very long time ago, a young man
named Louis Moran<l was sent by his lather t<
Paris, to complete his studies, and to take his
Doctor's degree in tho Faculty of Mcdidne.
The father died ; and the report went about
that it was in consequence of grief at his son's
ill conduct However that might be, the
youth, who had no great inheritance to ex>
pect, simply sent for the papers of his dcceafcd
parent, and employed himself one evening in
destroying them, and in selecting those that
promised to be of use. After the inspection
of much thiit was of no consequence, he camo
to a bundle which contained letters all in the
same handwriting. The very first letter made
him extremely anxious to examine the ra^
and he n.'ad a tolerably voluminous correspon-
dence. They came from a friend who seemed
greatly attached to his father. ' Since it is
j-our wish,' he wrote, ' that I should resem
for your son what \ desire and am able to
bequeath to you, send him to me as soon H
he is fivc-and-twentv ; and, if he shovs i
good disposition, I will undertake to proiidi
for him handsomely. On the other liand, I
will take good care not to furnish him ilftk
the means of developing a vicious and a i
lignant character, to the prejudice of thw
with whom lie has to do.' When Lodi
Morand read the signature, he recogniaedtti
name of a man who was reputed hero to let
sorcerer and a necromancer. Ho langfaidtf
first at this offer of protection ; but ailrlc
had spent, in as bad a way as possibk^ thi
trifling amoimt of money which 1 1 \\\mi
after his father's affairs were settled, be I
resolved, under pressure from his crefiM
and in uncertainty about his future proniA
to try his chance upon new ground, andU^ j
duce himself to this unknown benefiietor, ik
appeared to have both the power and tha«l
to serve him. He set out on hin jouiMr;
and, after a troublesome search, arrived wW
at the necromancer's house. I oug^t to ■
you that this necromancer was pcrfaani*
more a soreercr than you and I. PrAiH^
he was only better informed than other M^
and by means of a few chemical and mich^
nical secreti), contrived to impose npouAi
credulity of tho vulgar."
At this last word, I looked at the etf^
guard with some degree of surprise. "D*
yon think so ?" I saicl
" I don't think anytlu'ng about it," *•
answered. *' What I am now telling ytn*
part of the narrative like all the rest f!
mother told it me in that way, and probd^f
that is exactly how she heard it herselt H*
magician's house was in the midst of a ««'
on the slope of a hill. When Louis Moi*^
knocked at the door, a little black -faced
came and opened it. His appearance
deep impression upon Louis. At th M ^
i
poopic were not accuiitoln^d to the sight of
negroes; ftii'l, moreoror, the fij^iire an J the
costume or llie slave were altogether stratij^e
and fnnt-istic. Ilis entire litllo person wn.s
completely covered witli golJ anil precious
Btones. On beholding liini, Lnuis took liim
for a gnome — one of tbo«c genii wfio, in the
bowels of the earth, are deputed to keep
gijurfl over the treasure* there. lie inquired
for Master Guillaume, trembling all the
while to receive an answer ; for the aspect of
the tin_v creature was by no lucanK calculated
to inspire con/ldence. The gnome — I am un-
able to state exactly whether hu was a negro
or a feal gnome — the gnome iritro<luced Uiin
into nn immense saloon, where his master was
rending by the light of & large fire. Nor can
I tell you whether Louis's imagination caused
him t> see things differently to what they
actually were; or whether this fire were
g\ipcmftturj\l ; or whether the effect was firo-
duccd fiy ordinary causes; but, to Louis's
eyes, the lire was reflecte<l in bright blue light
all around the walls of the room.
" The old man's appearance was venerable.
He had a long white beard ; his silver locks
w<-re partially hidden beneath a violet cap ;
the rest of his coslutnc was equally in keeping
with his necromantic reputation. Immedi-
ately Ihat Iw>iii;i was announced, ho embraced
him and Uiiied about his father with tears in
his cye«; and then, after this outburst of
feeling, he ordered dinner to bo served di-
rectly. Tiic repast was of exquisite delicacy ;
the wines, esjieeinlly, were most delicious.
Louiii ate and drank to hii* heart's content.
He arterward.i. however, thought ho remem-
bered tliiil Miisttr Gui1laum<', who ate nothing;
but rice, and drank nothing but water, knitted
his brows two or three times when he saw
him fill and empty his glass ; but the rccol-
Kvtion wj»* KO utterly vague, that he never
could feel quite certain of the fact. ' .My
Bon,' said .Master Guillaume, 'your father was
my dc«re?;l IViend. His simple t;»stes and hi.-4
conlt'iupt for earthly things made him refuse
to profit by my friendship d\iring the whole
of hU life. If you are not degenerated from
BO t' — ''•'.' a parentage, you shall inherit
it, to hi.4 wish ; and it is no con-
teii., :iL'ri(ancc that I offer you, as you
youraeir shall judge by and bye. We will
now drscend into my laboratory. There, we
will talk nboiil it, and I will then bco what
is to be done for j'ou.'
•• Guillaume and Louis then descended, by
K dark and narrow staircase, for more than
jin hour. At the end of that time they
found thera.selves in i large apartment richly
liting with purple. It was illumined by
Uunps that shed a purple light, and gave an
extraordinary- air to the necromancer's siib-
tcTninean retreat. Louis was struck with
complete astoni.-thmcnt When they wcrcl>i')th
■eater] upon some downy cushions, Master
Guillaume pulled a bell, whose golden wire was
hidden in one of the folds of the drspery. The
gnome instantly made his appearance. Louis
was nlaTTned at the apparition of the little
creature who, in less than a couple of se-
conds, had passed a distance which ha<i cost
them an hour to traverse. The gnome remained
standing, awaiting in silence the orders of his
superior. ' Zano,' s.iid Master Guillaume.
' there is one thing of importance which f
have forgotten. It will perhaps bo late n hen
wo leave this place ; let a couple of partridges
be prepared for our supper, one for each of
us; but do not put them down to ro.tst until
I give tlic ordci'.'
" A flora long conversation, in which Master
Guillaume questioned Louis about his past
life, his habits ami his tastes, ho said : ' My
son, in consideration of the ftiendshtp which
I still bear to your father, even beyond the
grave, I will give you whatever j'ou chooso
to ask tne. But I am able to grant you only
one single thing ; iind therefore, think of it
carefully befiirehand. My [lower e,\trnds no
further than that.' — ' Master,' replied Louis,
' 1 have often pondered in my mind which is
ihu most useful thing in life, and I am so
thoroughly convinced that the surest and
most fruitful source of enjoyment is to be the
pos.se8.sor of a large fortune, that I do not
hesitate to lusk you for it,' — ' So be it as you
desire,' the old man replied with gentleness;
' but fir>it allow me to warn you of tlie dangers
which your choice will draw around your
head. Men arc like ships ; they founder the
more easily, in proportion as they are heavier
laden with wealth. However honourable one
may feel one's self to be, it is best to avoid
the po.s.ses8ion of too powerful and efficacious
weapons. The sheep, perhaps, would be as
ferocious as the wolf, if its teeth were as
strong and sharp as those of its enemy.'—
The old man here added a nniltitude of rcllec-
tions and examples, which I will not relate to
you, because my mother, who probably did
not hear a word about them, repea.ted nothing
of the sort to me ; only Louis afterwartla
stated that his aged friend's eloqucnue was
by no means amusing ; and that he pa.ssed
all the time which it iilcased Mnstor Guil-
laume to employ in making his peroration, in
thinking of the Urio he would make of his
future riches, and of the pleasures which ha
was upon the point of enjoying.
" Ma.ster <.iuillaume concluded his long dis-
course in the very same words with which
he had commenced it : ' So be it an you
desire. Here is a little casket filled with goltl.
ItVhenevcr it is empty you will come to nic,
and I will fill it for you again. I shall not
trouble j-ou with any questions about the ti.se
which you make of your money. I only beg
you not to visit me till the contents of the
casket are entirely expended. More frequent
applicjitions would bo a useless disturbance
of my favourite pursuiti. On the other hand,
you have no occasion to hoard. If I die
before you, tho casket will continvio to fill
itself, according as you empty it'
I
I
I
■
I
=i
80
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
Guillaumo then gave him some further
counsel — which you might find tiresome.
" Louiti came tolerably often to get his
ca<iket filled. One day he again fancied that
he saw the Master knit his brows. He then
thought that perhaps some caprice of the old
man might deprive him, at one moment or
another, of the wealth to which he had be-
come accustomed ; and he determined to
make a fresh demand as soon as half the
money in the casket was spent, in order to
he able to amass a treasure, and render his
future career indciiendent of the necro-
mancer's whims. lie spent his life in gamb-
ling, and in orgies of every description. There
was nothing which he did not believe himself
permitted to practise ; and unhappily, the
immense fortune which he had at his dis-
posal converted th(»o who surrounded him
into TO many slaves, who spared no pains to
confirm him in that idea. In his de.spotic
license, he knew no check ; and aftcrwanls,
cloyed with pleasures which he could not
greatly vary, on account of being unable to
travel far from the source of his riches, he
could find amusement in no other pursuit
than in doing mischief to those around
him.
"The intimate companion of his debau-
cheries was a clever and pfood-natured young
man, who although partaking of a portion of
his pleasures, did not, on that aceoilnt, hesi-
tate to blame other parts of his conduct ; and
who, for that very reason alone, had put him-
self in danger of incurring Louis's displeasure.
An accident changed this discontent into a
deep and envenomed hatred. Louis had a
niislrwui, who resided a league from this spot ;
ami her house was the usual scene of the riot
and debauchery which occupied his life, ex-
cei)ting the moments when he was a prey
to ennui. One day, he imagined that he dis-
covered between her and Rechteren certain
looks of intelligence, which kindled a burning
jealousy in his heart lie did not, however,
cease to receive Rechteren in the most friendly
manner. But one evening, when they were
departing together fix)m the house of — "
Here the coast-guard hesitated. I waited
for fiome time; and then, fearing that he
might have &llen asleep, I made a noise to
awaken him. But he was not asleep ; only
puzzling his brains.
" It is singular !" he said, " that I cannot
remember the name of Louis Morand's
mistrcfis."
" Sul>stitute some other, then."
" I shall remember it directly. I want to
tell you the story exactly as it was told to
me. — Her name was Hortense. — As they were
leaving Hortcnse's house together, liOuis
llorand said to his friend, ' If you will be
guided by mo, wo will take advantage of the
ebb tide to follow the path at the foot of the
cliffs. We shall see the sun set in the sea.'
It is most probable," added the coast-guard,
" that Louis Morand mado use of some addi-
tional arguments to persuade his companion
to go that way ; for sunset is not so very un-
common a sight The sun must set every
evening, as long as he rises every morning.
It was, as near as may be, at this scaaon of
the year, and the moon was at the full. Con-
sequently, it was ' spring tides,* and the tide
began to flow at four o'clock. As you would
easily perceive if the water was not so high,
and as you have most likely observed on other
occasions, it is rather a rough and fatiguing
task to have to walk over points of rock and
pebbles which roll beneath }'Our feet. They
were proceeding exactly below the hut in
which we are sitting. At this time of day,
the tide rises ten fathoms over the spot where
their feet were standing. They amused them-
selves with admiring the sunset, and with
gossiping. The wind blew from the north '
west, and slighfly tipped the waves with
white. There arc people in the world who
would spend a whole week in gazing at the !
sea, without doing anything else. For the '
last eleven years it has been my prindpii
emploj'mcnt, and I have yet to leant what
pleasure it can give them. All of a sudden,
Rechteren noticed that for the last hour the
tide had been flowing, that the wind wu "
driving the waves before it, and that it would [
be more prudent to retrace their steps, espe- '
cially as they had scarcely advanced man \
than a quarter of a league. But Louii i
Morand burst out laughing, asked him scoru-
fully if he were afraid, and assured bim thai
in another quarter of an hour they would bt
walking in the town of Fecamp.
" * Very well, then,' said Rechteren, • ktH
proceed.'
" But they could only proceed at a my
slow rate. It was now almost night; arf
they incurred every moment the risk cf
breaking their legs between, the rocksy Lodi
was continually finding some pretext §K \
retarding their progress. Sometimea hi
pointed out to Rechteren the yelloir trnli
which the sun hod left in the west ; aonu-
times he noticed tho earliest stars which wen
making their first appearance in the ettt
They were still far from the end of thA
journey, and the sea roared in a menicnf
tone. Every wave which broke upon tt<
rocks advanced further thaq its piiJcuiinr
had done. It now became completel
and a faint glimmer behind tho cl
nounccd the rising of the moon.
"Rechteren stopped. ' Louis 1' he «»
claimed, 'let us return. In half an hour**
can retrace the distance which wc have i'-
vanced ; and we do not know how long H
will take
path,
us. She
which the
offing.'
" ' Return, if you like,' said Louis HonBdj
' for my part, I shall go on.'
" ' I will follow you then,' said RechtoA
upon at •
idecoHT J
chflk » ,1
CterlM OHktM.]
A NORMAN STORY.
81
And they started again without exchanging
another word.
•' A few hutidreti puces further, Re<-litcrcn
a^in hulU^d. The pubbles wen; black, benenlh
hirt feet, and be stooped to touch them with
his tingirs. IIu then perceived that the
cause of their blai-kncss was tliat a wave,
somewhat strrniger tlian the rest, Irnd reached
the Tcry foot of the cHIF, and wetted it Never-
theless, he made no remark ; for, at the point
which they had reached, if they were not
nearer to Fecamp than to their place of
starting, they must inevitably be drowned.
Another step, and a wave glided forwards,
wc4dng tlieir leg« as it broke on the shore
" ' Ixiuis, wc are lost 1' he saiiL Louis made
no reply, but doubled his pace. Rechtcren
refrained from uttering any reproach ; but
still it was hja companion's obstinacy which
had thus endangered both their lives. At
last they rau as last as they could toward.s a
portion of tlie cliff which jutted out into the
sea. Perh.ips behind that projecting point
they might lind a track where it would be
possible to climb. But, aa soon as they had
gained the promontory, the sea burst roaring
against the cliiK 'Louis,' repeated Rcchtercn,
' wc are utterly lost 1' lie tried to measure
tlie cliH'-* »t a glance, as well as the night
would allow him to do so. Far as his cye-
»ight could pierce the gloom, nothing w.is to
be seen but a wall tltrec hundred feet iiigh,
and a.i upri|;ht as the mast of s ship. They
hastily ran back again ; but froui time to
time fatigue compelled them to pause and
take breath. Kcchtcren swallowed a mouth-
5 ful from a tiaf-k of spirits ; and then they
again endeavoured to press forward. In a
quarter of an hour, they were once nifire
arrested by the sea, which broke against the
cliff. On eitlier side escape was iinpossiWe.
The space of a couple of hundred feet was all
that wa-s left uncovered. Every advancing
wave devoured the dry land ; and before
another half hour could elapse, the place on
which they then stood would certainly be six
fathoms under water. Kcchteren slopped
short, and looked right and left at the fust
rising tide. Before him was the boiling ocean;
behind, the smooth, unbroken cliff.
" ' This ia not the moment to flee like a
hnrc,* ho said ; ' still less to give way to
despair. We must bo resigned to our fate,
and await it boldly. Come, Louis ; it is all
over with us.'
" Louis walked a few steps onwards, and
climbeil a boulderVhich had fallen from the
clifl", and which leaned against it to thu height
of seven or eight feet above the level of the
beach. There, ho sat himself down in silence,
Rcchtercn followed him, and stood by his side.
" ' My good friend Louia,' he said, ' canyon
gticss what vexes roc most in the midst of
this terrible catastrophe ? It vi!, that two or
three fools of my acquaintance, who havi;
ofl* n tensed me because I cannot switu, and
who have always ])redicted that I should die
in the water, will conclude their funeral
oration over me with an imperltnent '' I (old
him so!" That, I must confess, is a pleasure
which I was scarcely disposed to confer upon
them.' After a moment's (>ause, he continual :
'This is a horrible death I 1 do not fear t..
die, but I do fear the pain of dying. Look at
those rocky points against which wc shall
soon be dashed ! How frightful is the voice
of these roaring waves and this whistling
wind I But, however fearful it may be, th«
awful spectacle elevates the soul, raises a man
above himself, and endows him with strength
to die becomingly. It is better to meet death
in this decided style, Uian to take the chance
of bfing shot for giving tiic lie to a fotil, who
is afraid to flre the bullet which kills you.
But Louis, you do not speak a word.'
" There was another moment of solemn
silence, during which the sea could be hearo
to be constantly advancing. A wave, crowned
with its wreath of foam, came and touched
the rock which was their la.st refuge.
" ' I have just expericnctd,' said Hechtcren,
' a final paro.xysm of desjiair and rage ; I have
been tempted to rush against the cliff, and
try to climb it with my nails and lingers.'
He then added, with a burst of blasphemy,
'a cat could not uianuge to perform the feat I
A strange expres-Mon,' he ailded, ' has escaped
my lips ; that oath, uttered so near to death,
tcrrilics me. You may laugh if you like, my
dear Louis, although you do not seem in a
laughing mood ; but I feel an irresistible im-
pulse to praj-. These voices of the sea and
the winds, this death which advances on the
foaming waves, all seem to command me to
fill down upon my knees.' Uuchteren then
knelt down upon the rock. ' It would be very
dithcult just now,' he said, 'to remember all
tlie praj'ers which they taught me in days
gone by ; but the one I shall make will
be as good as any.' ARer a few rao-
mcuti!, lie aroic again. ' Louis, do you in
turn follow my example. I assure you that
it will do you no harm.'
" ' No ; muttered Louis.
" ' You seem to me to be rather in a stupor ;
I will not arouse you from your insensibility.
It is one way, among others, of meeting deatli,
and is perhaps the best thing that could hap-
pen to you. Only, if I have offemlcd you
in any respect, 1 now entreat your panlon
fur it.'
" Louis fi.xcd his glittering eyes full upon
the countenance of his friend.
"'I confess to have injured you with re-
gard to llortcnse. But ! am dying with coM.
1 should wish during the few minuU.s i'y I
I still have to live, to feel as little suderiM-x
as possible. Ah, yes! I have it now.' Aii.l
ho emptied the spirits which remained in
his flaslv into a little hollow on the top of the
rock : then, taking from his pocket the flint
and steel which he alvvays carried nbdut him,
he set fire to it, and a" blue flame soon (qui-
vered over its si^facc. ' What a capital
a
82
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[CMdaeM kf
tlioiiKlit!' he exclaimed; 'But it is unlucky
that vrv. have no sugar here. It would be de-
lightful to drink a glass of punch while wc
arc waiting for the tide to rise enough. At
:niy rate, it will warm my fingers till the sea
coinos and puts it out liut I shall then hare
no further need for it.'
" ' Wretch !' said I/onis Jlorand, ' do you
not HOC that the waves arc breaking against
the rock which wc have mounted ? '
" ' I sec it, as well as you do; and I almost
wish that it was all over and ended. For
thiTu is n moment coming which frightens
me a little. But, Louis, why arc you undress-
ing yourself? '
" ' Why ? Because you have confes.scd your
crime, of which I was already aware ; be-
cause I have brought you up hither to have
my revenge. Think, now, of your own and
Uortense's perfidy.'
" He stepped from the rock ; the water was
up to his middle. As Rcchtercn shouted
after him, 'Louis! Louis 1 Do you abandon
me thus? ' an enormous billow rose above
Mnrand's head. He dived, and reappeared on
the other side of the wave, which broke
against the foot of the rock. Louis Morand
had hard work to swim, plunging under
every wave. Rcchtercn screamed, but he did
nnt Jicar him ; for the sea made a deafening
noise, till he got completely away from the
breakers. He then turned round. The bhio
Haiiie was .<:till shining in the darkness of night
A little afterwards, he turned again. Tlic
flame was extinguished. Three hours later
he arrivc<l at F« camp.
" Look that way," said the coast-guard,
pointing to the protto which he had already
indicated, " if the tide were low I could still
show you, by descending to the beach, the
hole in the rockjn which Rcchtercn set light
to the flask of spirits.
" Louis related the death of his friend,
exactly as suited his own convenience. They
hail been surprised by the tide; in .s])itc of
desperate efforts, he had been unable to
resciK! Ilcchteren, and had had great difficulty
in saving himself. He o.stentatiously mourned
the death of the man whom he had murdered ;
and (•veryl)ody agreed in praising his excel-
lent heart and his sensibility. But, what he
really feared, was the presence of Master
Ouillau'.ne and his severe and penetrating
glanri'.
"This time he waited till the casket was
(Miii|.litfly empty before he made up his
mind to ajiply to the sorcerer. At the door,
he Insitated, and was very near turning back
n;;ain ; but by repeatedly reminding himself
that Master Guillaume had imposed no con-
ditions upon his favours, and that, moreover,
he would be sure to be deceived, like other
peojilc, by tlie reports that were current, he
to<jk courage, and entered. Master Guil-
laume, according to cu.stom, filled the casket
without speaking a word. But there was
■omething cruelly .sardonic in his look ; and
when Louis \(orand offered his hand as usual
on enterinfr, the master did not oifcr his in
return. Louis n-tired, pale and horribly
agitated ; the master had evidently refused
to take the hand of a murderer. An ii'onical
smile had for a moment contracted hia lipSk
Louis had everything to fear. Not only
might he soon cease to receive any further
supply of money from the sorcerer, but it waa
probable that his punishment would not end
there. He n-ns more than three months
without daring to present him.self again ; and
he spent all that time in the most serious
anxiety. He had exhausted all the pleasures
which the neighbourhood could offer him.
Like the goat, which, after having cropped
the grass within the circle which the length
of its tctlter allows it to traverse, crops it
again as short as velvet, and then lies down
hi discontent, so Louis, ^tiated with his
past enjoyments, lived a life of worn-out
dulness.
" A fearful thought entered his mind. Ft
fixed itself there, and took finn root It
completely occu|)icd him by night and by
day. He turned it over, and arranged his
plans in liis head ; all his diOlculties vanished,
all his dangers were over. As soon as every-
thing was prepared for the execution of fail
project, he went to the house' of his aged
friend. When Zano opened the door for him
to enter, he ru.shcd tipon the negro, enveloped
his head in his mantle to smother his crie^
and handed him to some men who canied
him away. Then, followed by his accoiii>
plices, he proceeded, pistol in hand, to Muter
Guillaume's chamber, where they bound hm
hand and fi>ot. 'liouis Morand,' asked tk
sorcerer, ' what is it that you want of me f
" No one answered. Louis was left abn
with the master, to whom he said, * DcUts i
up all the trea,»!ures you possess.'
" ' Louis Morand, replied the Master, * jroa
have made too bad a use of the wealth I '
have already bestowed upon you, for me tt
be guilty of such an act of madness as to Teed
your vices any longer. With what you hare
hitherto received, you have only turned ort
foolish and wicked ; if you were in possesnoi
of my hidden treasure, j'our vices wooU
become criines, and your wickedness wooJd
increase with the means of indulging it'
"Meanwhile, Louis's attendant.^ searched
the house, from the roof to the cellar. Th«T
returned to .xar that they could not find tbt
value of ten crowns altogether. Then th^
carried the ol<l man away, and shut himiW
in a prison which Louis had contrived >M
built It was a tdl tower, lined inndc
throughout with plates of polished iroa
Here, they told him, he should 1>e starrtd
to death ; and here he lay, enduring the
dreadful ])angs of hunger and thirst, for fli
day."!.
" Towanls the evening of the sixth day »
voire was heard, and Louis Morand's face ap-
peared at one of the windows, lie employed
crcrj tncati:^ hi.s intAgfiiiilton could sug-
gest to iiulucc the sorcerer to deliver up
liis treasures. Mnstcr Guill»ume was in-
ticriljlc. lie Iningered and lliirstcd, three
dnyH luorc. Louis Mordnd appeared at a
wifidow ; tlio Master threatened liiiii with
tlie vvrijro«nce of Heaven. L<.>iiis Monind re-
plied by an insulting smile, and urged him
to give up hh treasures. .Master Giiillatimo
WTTipped liis head in his mantle, and weut to
sleefi. Next daj, Louia Morand appeared
again. .
" ' Ih the name of Heaven,' the M:istcr
faintly crie<.l, 'do not kill, in such a cruel
way, an old man who never did you anything
but good !' — ' Give me, then, your treasures,'
Bald Louis Morand. The old nmn bowed his
head witliout replying. Louis disappeared.
That night Ma.stcr (iuillaume did not sleep.
He pmycd, without being able to calm hi^
spirit,f. Hi; called Louis Morand, Louis
Morand appeared.
*' ' .My Bon,' he said, ' what have I done, to
be condunmed to die such a horrible death ?
Have pity on my white hairs ! Have pity on
your fa-lher's fnend .' Spare my life ; if you
refuse that, at least shorten the torments I
sulFer.' — 'Give me, then, your treasures,'
repeated Louii 'Mercy! mercy !' cried the
old man. But Louis constantly replied, * Give
me your treasure!; !'
" At last, Master GuilLiume pulled a golden
belL A thick vapour rolled before Louis's
tyc3. With the vapour, the prison di.sappeareJ.
Loui.> beheld the sorcerer sittinf; opposite to
bim in hi.s velvet chair, which he had never
quitted. He also found himself in precisely
the same position ho haii occupied when the
necromancer said to him, ' So be it, as you
desire.' The golden licll was Ptill vibmling
within the purple drapery. The illusion,
the effect of the sorcerer's art, w.'ts at an end.
Zano entered.
" ' Zano,* said Master Guillaumc, ' put down
only a itingle partridge to roast for supper.' "
OLD IJONES.
Not many years ago there were discovered
by some labourers who wern digging in the
gnivcl in front of Sl John's College, Oxford,
Boine "giant's bones." They were carefully
placi-d in a whe"l-barrow, and trundled off to
tbo Professor of Geology, who had the repu-
tiLiion in that town of giving the best price
for all old bone*. The discoverers presently
returned to their fellow worknicn, with in-
formation that the doctor had decided the
bones to be, not bonc» of giants, but of
elephants ; and that he had given them
(although there wa« no brag about it in his
windows) two sovereigns more per pounJ
than they could have obtained at any other
houBe.
Hut how came an elephant to have been
buried in the middle of the street? The
oldest inhabitant at onca decided, that
althongh the doctor had as usual hi.s owi
book-lcnrned theor}', the elephant w.is one
that had died in Mr. Wombwell's metiaperie
when it was being exhibited in Paradise
S<piaro, long, long, ago.
This wa.s an elephant, however, that had
lived before the days of Wombwell. I^ong
before King .\lfred had laid the found:»tion
Btone of University College, or the Fellows
of St, John's had begun to encloife the
nightingale-haunted groves of Bagley Wood,
did this elephant, in company with other.** of
his clas«, fearing no proctor, room over the
tract of land on which the undergraduate
now loungcst, looking about to see how
he may spend paternal moneys. Time-i arc
changed, and we ought to be thankful for it.
Great would be the annoyance suffered by
the white-throated M. A., who in eighteen
hundred and lifky-three should suddenly havi-
his ideas disannnged by (he at'parilion of that
great leviathan on the top of Heddinirton Hill.
There is no danger of that now ; it is certain
that those elephants are dead and gone, hut
at the .«atnc time it is not less ccrLnin that
they die<l and went the way of their Hesh in
the neighbourhood of Oxford; and not about
Oxford only, but throughout nearly the
whole of England. In the streets of London
the teeth and bone.« of elephants arc fre-
quently turned u[) by the pick-axes of men
digging foundati'ins and .scwcns. Kleplinnis'
teeth have been found under twelve feet of
gmvel in Gray's Inn Lane. They have lieeti
found too at a'depth of thirty feet. In digiriui.'
tlie grand sewer near Charles Street, on tlia
east of Waterloo Place, Kingsland, ne.-ir
lloxton, in eiirhteen hundred and six, an
entire elephant's skull wa.s discovered con-
taining tusks of enormous length, lus well as
the grinding teeth. In the AshmnliTiT)
Mu.seum at Oxford, there are some vertebno
and a thigh-bone of an enormous elephrmi.
which must have been at least si.vteen liot
high ; the.se bones are in the most deliiMie
state of preservation. They were found :it
Abingdon in Berkshire, about six miles Irom
Oxford.
Near the same place — namely, at Lulham—
during the digging of n gravel pit, not very
long ago, there were found some "giant's
bones," that were indeed human, and must
have belonged to a man of considerable sijte.
This discovery made a sensation at the lime ;
and, to quiet the agitation and the sc:ind;il
raised thereby, a coroner's inquest was held
in due form "over the skeleton, ending in a
verdict, honestly arrived at by twelve tru:'
and lawful Bcrk.shiremcn. Upon subsc(|ueiit
examinntion by competent authorities, the
mysterious skclc Ion was pronounced, most
decidedly, to be that of an old R.iman, who
had been buried with all his arms and niili-
lary nceoutrcmentK near the camp to whicii
bo had probably belonged, nnd of which the
remains are still to be seen on the two hills
calle<3 the Dorchester Clumps. Little did his
i
I
I
\
84
HOUSEHOLD words.
(CndiMt^ bf
comrades think when covering him up with
graTcl, how their departed friend would be
disinterred and " sat upon."
With the elephant's bones found at Abing-
don were mixed fragments of the horns of
several kinds of deer, together with the bones
of the ihinoceros, horse, and ox ; showing that
thoDe creatures co-existed with the elephant,
and that tiiey formed a happy family.
There were carnivorous races also then ex-
isting. We have only to go further down the
Great Western Railway from Oxford, and,
getting out at the Weston-super-Mare station,
ask the way to Banwell Bone Caves. There
may be found evidence enough of the former
existence of more savage and rapacious
animals than elephants or deer. The caves
are situated at the western extremity
of a lolly grass-coloured range of hills. The
hills contain ochre, calamine (carbonate of
zinc), and lead. Some years ago, when
sinking a shaft into them, caves were dis-
covered, and the quantity of bones then
brought to light excited as much surprise
among the learned as aifiong the unlearned.
The principal cavern is about thirty feet
long, and there is a branch leading out of it
thirty feet further. Of course it is quite
dark, and victors must carry candles. The
visitor must take heed that he keeps his
candle alight ; no easy matter, for the water
comes down pretty freely in largo heavy
drops i>om the stalactites above. By help of
the light there are to be seen bones, bones ;
everywhere bones.
They are piled up against the wall ; they
stick into the floor; they fill up recesses, in
the most fantastic shapes. Here a candle is
stuck in the eyeless socket of a skull : there
John Smith, London, has inscribed his name
in letters of hyaenas' teeth. We are invited
to rest halfway upon a seat composed of
horns and leg bones. They may be handled
by the most ustidious ; having lost all traces
of corruption for some ages past Yonder
deer's bone was picked, perhaps, by the teeth
in this huge hyaena's skull ; and as for the
hyaena himself he died of a good ago — that
his teeth tell us. His tough body, after death,
may have been dainty dinner to the bear whose
monstrous skull is employed as the crown and
summit of the monument of old bones raised
in the cave in honour of a learned bishop—
the Bishop of Bath and Wells. When the
caves were first discovered, in eighteen hun-
dred and twenty-six, it was he who took
every means in the most laudable manner to
preserve them and their contents intact
Mr. Beard was appointed curator, and he has
arranged in his own house a fine collection of
all the best specimens that have been found
below.
To Mr. Beard I went, and by him I was
most hospitably welcomed. His museum dis-
plays a very fine collection of the remains of
the ancient British Fauna. The hones of the
bear claimed first attention, and especially
one large bone of the fore leg, which
measured at the joint seven inches round;
being larger than the corresponding bone io
any known species of ox or horse. It is quite
evident that the inhabitants of the bone caves
lived before the times of King Edgar the
wolf-destroyer — for the museum contained
wolvess' bones in abundance. Fine patriarchal
old wolves they must have been that run upon
them. Many a fine old English deer, all of the
olden time, they mast have run down and de-
voured on the Mendip hill.s, their cry resound-
ing through the valleys and over the dales
where now the screaming whistle and the
rush of the express train stvtles timid shecpy
who live in a land where their great enemy
exists only as a fossil.
Then, again, in those old days there were
foxes living in a country that contained no
hounds, who ground down their teeth to the
stumps that are exhibited in Mr. Beard's pill-
boxes, and died of sheer senility. Glonoua
to foxes were the good old times, and thii
poor little mice that lived then, as we see by
Uie contents of other boxes, had their bonef
crunched.
MOOSllISE.
A KAK stood on a barren moniitain peak
In the ni;r1it, and cried: "UIi, world of hear/
ploom t
Oh, ■iinlcilA world 1 Oh, nnirersnl tomb !
Blind, cold, mechanic i>phore, wherein I seek
la vain for Life and Love, till Hope kiowu weak
And fahcrs towards ChiiOA ! Vu.st, blank Douul
Hu^o darkncM in a narrow prison-room !
Thon art dead— dead I" Yet, ere be ocaaoJ to aptil^
Across tlie level ocean in the &ut
The Moon-dawn grow ; and all that laonntdA
Hide
Bose, newly-born from empty diuk. Hddi|
trees.
And deep glen-hollows, as the !ij;ht itt
Seemed vitiil ; and from Heaven bar.t and <
The Moon's wliito soul looked over lands i
seas.
MOLDO-WALLACHIA.
Betond railways, beyond diligences, hajvd
post-chaises, out of the track of travellen, W
full in the high road of conquest firom Ai
north to the south, lie the sister proTinccitf
Moldavia and Wallacliia, which, for shortmA
some are accu.stomcd to designate as MoU^
Wallachia. Their names liavc become noto-
rious of late by taking place in the vocabnlMt
of political writers and speakers ; but it oij
be doubted — certain vague statisUcs set spirt
— whether in most men's minds any ideas >l i
all are connected with them. When we tA
of Paris we picture to ourselves the Plandi
la Concorde or the Boulevards ; an allusioali I
Berlin implies a recollection of Under Ih I
Linden Trees ; to Naples of the StnM ' i
Toledo ; but who thinks of the Pd de Magi' I
choya at mention of Bucharest, or has Hfl
4C
associations whntcvcr with Curt d'i\rgis and
Kiinpolongo? Let us ti-j' to connn't a few
imagcH, a few fomis, a fen- colours, with these
words. This Ia the best way to extend our
Bfmpatliica in that direction.
Moldo-Wallacbia is iilUe more than a huge
fann, givinj; ctuployuicnt to sonju Ihrets or
four millions of labourers. It is not, however,
a farm laid out on the principles of Mr. Meohi,
but an eastern backwoods farm, very vast
and strapgling; hero and there cut up by
patches of original desert and extents of pri-
niitirc forests, made rugged by spurs of
mountains and watered by boisterous rivers,
navigable lor the most part only by fallen
trees. These rivers tlow from the Carpathian
mountain.4, which divide the country to the
northward from Ausln'a, and fall into the
Danube, which divides it from Turkej'. There
is a kind of postern-gate to the East, ill-closed
by the Prulh, a river that has oflen been
mentioned this year. In neither of the Prin-
cipalities arc there many roads worthy of the
name. The cities, villages, or (ai-ming stations,
arc generally connected only by trackti and
bridie-path.s.
The geological construction of Moldo-
Wallachia is essentially volcanic. Its moun-
tains contain many crateni fre<pit.-ntly in a
ttatc of eruption. Sulphur and bitumen arc
plentiful. In some parU little spiu-ts of
liquid metal are seen, front time to time,
breaking from the schistous rocks, flowing a
little way like melted lead, and then con-
densing to the hardness of iron. In various
places, of late years, miniature volcanoes have
been known to start up from the ground and
6ame bravely away for a tuvr days amidst
corn-fields and pasturage. The PrathOva
river, in certain parts of its course, becomes
tepid or hot, or even boiling, according as it
flows or not over subterranean galleries of
fire. Earthquakes are frcquenL It i.s not
long since nearly the whole of the city of
Bucharest was destroyed — Pu de Mogocbof a,
and all The shock was felt whUbt the prin-
cipal inhabitants were at the theatre listening
to one of the dramas of Victor Hugo. Many
persons perished, and an immense amount of
projicrty was of course hist. In the countries,
howeviT, that arc subject to these epileptic
Mb of Nature, such accidents are quickly for-
gotten and their consequences repaired. They
Serve, indeed, the purpose of revolutions or
sanitaiT bills in more civilised lands. Bucha-
rest, nt any rate, like Paris and London, has
been induced to widen its thoroughfares and
improve tlie build of its houses.
A great part of Moldo-Wallachia, especially
towards the mountains, is clothed in forest.
In fc-w countries arc beheld more mngnili-
cent oaks; and trnvelters talk of having seen
tliooaands with trunks rising straight more
than eighty feet without branches. Minglcl
with these splendid trees, or covering the
higher slopes with their dull verdure, are
enormous firs, that would delight the eye of
the ship-builder. Besides these, there are
elms and beeches of pro'ligious size, with
wild pear trees and senna, maple, cherry, and
yew ijees, with many others. All these grow
in a tangled mass — grow or fall togetlier,
beaten down by the tempest or uprooted by
rushing inundations. "In the low country
the millet has no more husk than the apple
has rind in the high," says the Wallachian
proverb, to picture the fertility of the country.
Its vast plains, indeed, are covered in the
season with splendid crops; of which those
who travel to Galatx can say something.
These districts are counted now, as they have
always counted, among the granaries of
Europe. It is worth remarking, that a yoimg
French gentleman, who has studied political
economy, has lately rccorainendcd the Moldo-
Watlachiins to neglect the culture of the
ground and take to the manufacture of cotton
cloths, in order to escape from the commercial
t3Tanny of perfidious Albion. The mysteries
of supply and demand, however, the definitions
of value, and the influence of tariffs, do not lie
in our way at present We are not going to
discuss what is a pound, but to explain what
Is the Wallachian substitute for a railway.
Before visiting or describing a country in
detail, it is good to know what means of
locomotion it possesses.
If you are not particularly pressed for time,
which no one ought to be in that part of the
world, it is best to use the great waggon
called the Kcixintza, which rcscniVdes the
vehicles in which the burly boors of the Capo
.sleep and smoke in their journey from ono
kloiif to another. It is of solid construction,
and well roofed with leather. A larg^' family,
with all their luggage and paraphernalia, even
their cocks and hens, may travel in it; and
perhaps there could he no more romantic
way of spending six nu)nth.-i than in jolting
about in one of these lumbering chariots
amidst the plains and forests of Wallaehio.
The people of the country generally go from
place to place on foot, or mounted on horses,
buifaloes, or oxen. Asses are little used;
those humble quadrupeds being treated with
the same unchristian contempt ns in most
other European cotintries. .\sia and Africa
arc their paradise. Among the Boyarda,
however, it is fashionable to make use of
whiit is called a Knroutchor, a kind of vehicle
peculiar to the country, and whidi we sincerely
hope may ever remain so. As a traveller has
already remarked, it holds a position in the
scale of conveyances, a little above a wheel-
barrow and a iiftla below a dungcart It i.s,
properly speaking, a trough, a i)0.\ without
a cover, three feet long, two feet wide, and
two feet and a half higH. It rests, of course
without the intervention of springs, upon the
axles or beajiis ; and is poised upon four
wheels made of soliil wood, more or less
rounded by means of a hatchet. Perhaps
Boadicttt's war-t'hariot was something of the
make of a karoutchor. Not a single nail
I
i
86
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[Coadaett«Vr
I
cntci-s into its composition. Tlie harness is
as primitive as the vehicle. To a single
shaft, generally with the bark on, eight, ten,
or twelve horses are fastened by means of
long cords, with collars at the end through
which the heads of the beasts are passed.
Three surijions or postillions mount three of
the horses without saddles, without stirrups,
and without bridles; and these arc all the
preparations made to travel express in
Wailachia.
If you have courage enough to undertake
this nio4,e of progression, you present yourself
to the Aga or the Ispravnick of the city you
inhabit, and inform him 9f your desperate
intention, and also of the place you want to
reach, the day on which you wish to set out,
and your address. This information is set
down upon a piece of paper, which it is ne-
cessary to show to each post-master on the
way. The chief formality, however, consists
in paying the whole fare in advance — a pre-
caution probably taken because there exist so
very few chances of your arriving safely at
the end of your journey, and because it would
not be decorous to exact payment from a
dead traveller.
AVhen the fatal moment has arrived, and
you have said adieu to your friends and made
your will, the karoutchor comes dashing up to
your door ; and it is considered wisest, if you
really intend to travel, to leap in without
taking a moment to think of the consequences.
The Ispravnick has given a thought to your
comfort You will And an armful of hay, not
very sweet, it is true, to sit upon ; and whilst
you are arranging it underneath yon, the
chief surijion will utter his "all right" in the
shape of a savage cry, as if he were about to
whirl you to the infernal regions, will crack
his enormous whip, and thus give the signal
of departure Off you go— with a frightful
jerk and an ominous hop of all the four
wheels at once; for they have not yet got
Uised to go round. They will get into the
habit one by one, never fear. You feel the
necessity at once of clutching hold of the
edge of j'our abominable post-box, as an
awkward rider seizes hold of the pommel of
his saddle. The neighbours shout out a long
farewell, or look commiseratingly at you, as if
you were going to bo hanged ; ruthless boys
laugh at your deplorable countenance; and
the postillions yell like mad. Thus you arrive
at the gates of the city, exhibit your pass-
port — shame preventing you from getting out
— submit probably to the last extortion you
will suffer in this life ; and rush into the open
plain.
Now the three postillions begin to show
themselves in their true character. You
have alrc-ady had some ugly suspicions. They
are not postillions. They are demons. They
arc carrying j'ou away, soul and body, to
their great master. As soon as they have
the wide horizon of plain and forest around
them, they begin to scream with delight,
and to exhibit their infernal joy under a
false pretence of singing. The first in rank
sets up a discordant rhythmical howl, some-
times as gay as the psalms on a witch's
sabbath, sometuncs as dreary as the shriclCb
of ghosts disturbed in their midnight evolu-
tions. Then the others join in in chorus,
and you would assuredly stop your eara if
your hands were not fully employed in holding
on. Meanwhile, these wretches accompany
their screams with the most furious gesticula-
tions, wriggling their bodies into all manner
of postures, leaning now this way, now that,
lashing furiously the herd of wild animals
that is bounding under them; and giving,
indeed, every additional proof that is neces-
sary of their supernatural character.
Once you have set out, you feel yourself
reduced to a most miserable state of insijrni-
fieance. You are utterly forgotten. Tho
surijions think of nothing but their songs
and their horses. They have not even a
glance to spare for the karoutclior. On
fiiey go, whether there be a road or not,
caring only to swallow so many miles in the
least pcssiblc space of time. The tracks in
the African deserts are often marked by the
bones of camels that have fallen under their
burdens ; those in Wailachia are marked by
tho bones of madmen who have undertaken
to travel post. But the surijion cares not
for — noticesnot — these lugubrious mementoes
of former journeys. He skips lightly over
them all. Ravines, torrents, ditches, patches
of brushwood, are dashed tlu-ough with laQ-
road rapidity. The horses E>cem to take
delight in this infernal race. They too forgcl
that they have anything at their heels, aal
struggle desperately which shall be forcinosL
A steeple chase is notliing to it. If you an
a very bold man, the excitement keeps you up
for half an hour ; but then alarm rushes into
your soul. Not one of tho postillions deigioi
to turn his head. He is not there for con-
versation. He has nothing to say to yoiL
As to stopping, or going slower, or not
going quicker, the idea is absurd. At
length, in all probability, a wheel breaks, the
trough falls over, and the traveller is shot
off into some deep hole, with a broken
leg or collar-bone, and is thankful that
he is not quite killed. Still on ^oes the
karoutchor, rendered lighter by this alight
accident ; and it is only on reaching the next
relay, that the surijions turn round and
perceive that they have lost a wheel and
their passenger. Peace be to his manes hit
fare is paid.
The distinguishing characteristic of Moldo-
Wailachia being theabsence of cities, travelling
is not very prevalent among the people. It
is true that each principality possesses nomi-
nally a capital, and tliat Bucharest and Jassy
contain a considerable agglomeration of in-
habitants. Both these places, however, thou^
they exhibit some tendencies to civilisation—
though they put on fragments of Franch
Okwta IMrliaH.1
MOLDOWALLACHIA.
87
costume as the 8»rages put on the inex-
pressibles or Captain Cook — are little better
even lunv than vast villages. The true life
of the l)anubiHn provinces is in the country
— in llic j)1aio6 tiut stretch from the bank.s
of the Danube towards the Krappncks nnd
Dneistcr — out amidst the fields where PT'-'*''.
probiiblv, the com which made the bread
we, sitting here at breakfast in London, have
this day eaten — out into the forests that
funiish the wood >vith which Coutitaniinople
is built — out uito the districts where men
lire like moleis Lri the earth, and where you
may ride over the roofs of a village without
suspecting its existence, unless your horse
stumble into a chimney hole.
Ir Moldo-VVallachia possessed a proper
government, and were insured against the
dangers of conquest, it would probably pro-
duce ten times the amount of gn«in it now
produccfi. The cultivated fields, so far from
succeeding one another in unbroken succe^ioii,
arc loosely scattered over the country, and
divided by patches of forest and waste laml,
and somctimeti by vast extent of marsh. They
are allowed to lie fallow every other year
from the want of a proper system of manuring.
The seed time is generally in autumn; but if
a short crop is feared, an inferior quality of
grain is sown in other lands in the spring.
SL\ oxen drag a heavy plough, which makes a
deep furrow. Every year, as in a new coun-
try, virgin tracts are brought under culti-
vation to replace others, which have been
wilfully abandoned, or have been ruined by
violent inundationa of the Danube, or its
tributary torrents. These newly-conquered
fields are first planted with cabtuges, which
g:row to an enormous size, and aro supposed
to exhaust certain salts which would be
iiyurious to the production of wheat, of barley,
of nmize, of peas, of beans, of lentil.s and
Other grain and pulse. Maize was first intro-
duced into these countries in the last century,
and yields prodigious returns.
Tli« Danubian provinces are familiar to the
EnglLshiuan chiedy as corn-growing countries;
bui ^c must repeat, in order to leave a cor-
rect impression, that great portions of them
are still clothed in primwval forest Patriots,
taking this fact to be a sign of barbarism,
insist thit the wood-lands are every day
giving way to cultivation, and pride them-
selves on the fact; but a grave Italian writer,
who 8c«ra8 to fear that some day the world
will be in want of fuel, deplores this circum-
stance, and attributes it to *hat he con.sidcrs
sn extravagant, absurd, and almost impious
use of good things granted by Providence,
namely, the custom of paving a few of the
principal streets, or rather ketinck, of Ja-ssy
and Bucharest with woo'L The worthy man,
however, might have spared himself the
anxiety which this hideous waste appears to
have created in his mind. There is no dan-
ger tliat Moldo-NS'allachia will soon be di.H-
fowMit ed, and the sentimental, perhaps, will
rejoice in this fact, when they know that the
vast seas of foliage which form the horizon of
the plains and roll over the mountains are
inhabited by prodigious colonies of niglilin-
gales. In no place in the world arc tber«
found so many of the.se delightful songsters
as in WalliK-liia. In the months of .Alay nnd
June it is considered to be one of the greatest
enjoyments that man can taste, to go out by
moonlight and listen to the concert of nightin-
gales, swelling full and melodious above the
rustling of the leaves, and the rattling of
small water-courses. Benighted travellers
often stop their waggons by the side of some
forest-lake that spi-cads over half a g'ade,
on purpose to listen to this marvellous
music, and then after having feasted their
ears for a while, give the order to march,
upon which, amid the clacking of whips, the
shouts of the drivers, and the creaking of
the whecb?, all those sweet sounds are stitlccl,
and you are brought back as it were from
fairy-land to the country of Boyards, serfs,
and gipsies.
Let us suppose Ibc reader to be wending his
way according to this primitive stylo, through
one of the vast plains that stretch we.stward
from the Dimbowitza. If it be summer there
is little danger, even after midnight, from the
wolves ; and the bears remain up amidst the
krappncks. Yon ma)', therefore, jolt along in
eafet\', unless you happen to deviate into a
morass, or upset into oneof thecrevii'es, which
so frfrpiently occur. It is pleasant to travel
by night on arcoimt of the great comparative
coolness of that time; but nothing can exceed
the delight of moving leisurely along in the
early hours of the moniing, when the air is
full of grey light, and the skies are covered
by flights of birds on the look out for a break-
fast ; when bu.stards go rustling through the
underwood, when partridges start up from the
dewy grass and take semicirouLir flighU to
get out of the way of the intruders, and when
awkward storks are seen perched upon boughs
watching for serpents and other reptiles to
take homo to their young. The sunri.sc in
those districts is wonderfully fine, clear, nnd
red. Once the winter season fwssed the
weather is balmy and agreeable, except in the
arternoon, when tho fierce heat shrivels the
vegetation, and causes the traveller to dro^p.
This is why tho dark hours, or those wliii-li
u.shcr in tho day, are preferred for travelling;
and if you are out in the plains at that time,
you arc sure to hear tho disconlant creaking
of wheels approaching or receding in ditferent
directions, ju.st as in the enchanted forest to
which Don Quixote was taken by the hu-
morous (and not very amiable) hospitality of
his ducal hosts.
The approach to a "Wallachian village^ in
these wild regions is remarkable. On cmerKing
perhaps from a sombre wood, along the skirts
of which hang white patches of morning mist,
you dimlv see signs of cultivntian, (icIiJs of
maize or'wheat and beds of cucuinbera and
I
I
88
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[Ondir
I
//
cabbai;e3. So you begin to have thoughts of
eggs an I poultry, and leap oat of your slow-
movin.-; waggon and push on, expecting, if
you arc quite a novice, to descry comfortable
looking cottages, and it may be the steeple of
a village church. Whilst you arc gazing ahead
in this vain expectation, a slight breeze wails
a strong odour of smoke around you, and look-
ing atttntively you see a few blue ringlets
coming up from the ground just in front.
Presenlly some slight elevations may be dis-
tinguished, scattered over what appears to you
a patch of rough grass land, and now and then
a wild-looking figure rises mysteriously, flits
along a little way, and then drops into the
earth. Those arc Moldo-Wallachians making
their morning calls. You have stumbled upon
a village or rather upon a human warren.
The houses arc mere holes dug in the ground,
with a roof composed of long poles, which are
covered with earth and thatched with the
grass (hat naturally grows. This style of
living was adopted by the people of these
unfortunate countries for the sake of con-
cealment from the marauders, to whose in-
roads they have always been subject on every
side.
The villages arc dug as far aa possible from
any line of route ordinarily used. They rarely
contain more than a few hundred inhabitant,
and are sulyect to a tox, the amount of which
is fixed according to the supposed number of
the houses. For example, a village set down
as containing a hundred dwelling places, has
to pay four Itundred piastres. Tlie Ispravnick,
or povi.'iTior of the district, receives a list of
villagts from the treasury, with the sum re-
quired from each affixed, and sends an agent
to inform llie people of their liabilities. It
often happens that a village is set down as
containing more or less houses than it really
does. If there is a greater number, that is to
say, if the estimate of the treasury is under
the nnrk, the peasants collect in a public
mcetinf; to discuss in what proportion each is
to benefit by the mistake. At these meetings
they shout, quarrel, and even fight But
though wounds and death sometimes occur,
nothing ever transpires before the tribunals.
It is a family quarrel in which no stranger
interferes. When matters arc settled the head
man of the village collects the various items
of the tax, and carries the sum to the agent,
who has no call to meddle otherwise in the
matter. But if, as often happens, the village
contains fewer houses than are set down, the
peasants collect and nominate a deputation
entrustud with the duty of representing the
ovcnhfirie in the proper quarter. If they
rriniiDt olitnin redress they often abandon
tluir houses or holes, and separate and pass
into ncizhbourins parishes and districts, leav-
ing their old dwelling places entirely deserted.
After a little time, of course, taxation pursues
tlieiu in their new retreat In this way the
populatjim remains unsettled, and we never
meet with what in other countries would be
called rising towns. It is calculated that in
the two principalities there arc about fivo
thousand boroughs and villages, most of them
of the character we have just described. How-
ever, on the mountains, the houses are above
ground, and are not disagreeable in appear-
ance or uncomfortable to live in. Near most
villages may be seen long granaries, if they
may be so called, of peculiar construction.
They arc often about three hundred feet in
length, six feet high, and three or four feet
w^idc, and are made of open trellis work. In
them the maize is thrown, and being dried by
the wind is preserved, when necessary, for
several years. It is, on this account, that the
cargoes of maize from Galatz are seldom or
never injured on the passage, whilst those
from Eg}'pt and other places, being shipped
whilst yet half-dried, often corrupt on the
way.
ACCOMMODATION FOR QUIDNUNCS.
Quid nvnef "What now?" or, "What's
the news!" is a question that can be answered
more readily by the multitude in prorindai
towns than in the Metropolis. About two
years ago we called attention to the Ikct
that London was in one respect left behind
by Liverpool and other towns: — ^wc had
no Penny News Room.'*. Attempts, moro or
less vigorous, to supply that want, have since
been made in divers quarters of the town,
and they appear to have succeeded man
or less according to the greater or less de-
gree of vigour that has been thrown intt
their management The harvest gatherad
by each speculator seems to have
pretty well proportioned to the capital ul
labour spent External signs of prosperilj •.
are, to be sure, very delusive. Yet, sett&ig '
up our opinion only upon them (hariitg
watched the growth of London Penny Newt
Rooms — still infant phenomena not able, ft
would seem, to run alone), we are able to
report of them that they are growing in health
and strength.
The first attempt towards the supply of
penny news was made, in an unpretcn^W
way, by some ncwsvendor, who annooBcei
in his window that the papers mifrfat bt
read for a penny on his premises. HaTiDg
the raw article passing through his handi
in the way of business, it became ea^ ftr
him to establish a reading-room in his iMui
parlour, if he did not believe that the practice
tended to reduce the number of newspaper
buyers, and so damage his trade. Very few
such attempts were made. We know at tlul
date only of two. They are impromptus difr
fering from the reading-rooms planned with ^
deliberation as improvisation differs from
poetry. The first Penny News Room, more de«
liberatcly established, is situated in Ghcapsid&
So far as the system is concerned, it is not a ftir
experiment, inasmuch as it probably was not
established with a view to the profit that » ooU
C^riM ObkiM.)
ACCOMMODATION FOR QUIDXUNOS,
89
be extracted fromitself «lone. It U subsidiary
to on cuting-housctinil tavern. Tt is iioL on tlint
account the worse confluoted, and no one who
visits it is made to feci tliat he is bound to
supply body and mind togfthcr. The dignity
and iiidfpctnlonw of the entrance penny are in
no degree impaired. It admits t^J a ptrus.il of
all tlie duily morning anil eyening papers
properly arninge<l on stands, and to the tilis
of baek numbers both of them and of the
loidiug weekly journal.-? for the Wt six
months. The wccklj- papers are im stands in a
second room, a story higher. There is al.so a
very good representation of the provincial
prej«s. There are scarcely any foreign papers,
and the quarterly reviews and monlUly maga-
zines may indeed l>e kept, but lUey must be
askid for especially. The rooms arc verj' well
conductc<l, and we have always found them
crowded on the tirst Boor with readers of the
day's news •, respectable, determined, active
quidnuncs, bent upon ascertaining how the
world wags in the lea.^t pos.siblo time, and being
otf again about their daily biisineta. These
liberally established Neiv.s Rooiii.s are, in fact,
a variation upon the ordinary dining-room, in
whieli a moderate supply of new.<papers is
provided for thij satislaction of the diners.
In those you dined and h.vi the oppor-
tunity of looking at the papers ; in Uierfc
you look at the papers, and, if you please,
can dine.
I am not quite sure whether the Beconi)
Penny News Room was not the one established
in Ilolbom or Oxford Street by a teacher of
languages, who has always a cla.>:s in course
of being formed on very cheap terin.s ; and
who has also a penny-a-volume library of
cheaply printed French novels and other
•vorks. The chamber used is tlie front room
^n the first floor, unusually domestic in its
proportions and in furniture. It is carpeted,
and, in winter, there was always a good
fire burning in an open parlour grate, under
the cover of a domestic mantel-piece. The
penny taker .sits at a small table m-.ir the
door. There i.s a low table in the middle
the room, and there are about a dozen,
Tnorc or le«g, cine-bottomed chairs Bprinkletl
about The French books occupy a scries
of shelves on one wall : and, as a gentle
hint to the news-readers that they arc not
to help themselves to the.se books, a cordon
is drawn across the room, i.soiating a little
sanctum Eanctonim, in which the philologist
and his .staff rule over the penny-a-volume
library. The table is supplied with a number
of daily new.spapers, and a selection of weekly
journals. There are aUo one or two French
jiowspapers ; of monthlies and qiurterJies the
supply is scanty and uncertain. About this
room there are rarely so many a,s a dozen
quiet persona quietly Bcated, quietly reading.
1 hey are evidently not City men. They are in
no hurry. The}' are only interested in Rii-wia
and Turkey, and in the Cab Quciition, like
ordinary news-readers, and not in the Capel
Court or Lombard Street sense. They prefer
that News Room to more prosperous establish-
ments (one of which stands nearly opposite),
although it contains fewer papers, because it
contains also fewer men. They simply wish
to look over the day's news in peace ; to
read about the world in a snug nook with-
drawn from all its bustle. Tlie philologist
exactly caters for their wants.
There is another quiet, but .somewhat more
business-like News establishment in the
Strand apparently under the auspices, of a
photographer, whose frame is hung out at
Iho door. It occupies two rooms on the lirst-
floor ami includes not only the Penny News
Kootn, but other desirable accommoJalions
for the public A letter may be wriiten
there, pen and ink, paper and envelojie being
furnished for a penny. Letters may be
addres.scd there nn<l are taken and delivered
ty the enquirer at the charge of a halfpenny :
fi>r some such charge use may be made yf
a wa.shing-rooin.
Thiitthe public is re.illv disposc<l to support
a Penny News Room when a man is found
who tlirow.s hi.s mind into its management,
has been [iroved, in the case of an eatabli.>ih-
ment in Oxford Street, which appeared to
be under the management of a stationer
in a small way of busine-ss ; or some one who
hail superadded stationery to his news tratle.
[ entered his shop door, and found the pro-
prietor boxed up in a littlo place mea-suritig
four feet by three, more Or less. Out of that
four feet by three shop a sort of wicket gate
gives admii^aion to the News Room — a pliicc
scarcely equal in size to tlie room* of the
photographer or the philologist ; and yet
iniii'h more abundnntly supplied, ilow so
much paper and print could be spread opcu
in such a S[)acc was a marvel. There were
six morning newspapers (two copies of the
Times), three evening papers, thirty-two
weekly jouriiala and newspapers, about
the simie rmmber of country newspaper.",
twelve Irish and Scotc-h papers, twelve
foreign ncw.spapcrs, and sixteen monthly and
quarterly publications. Every number of all
of these was supplied on the day of publica-
tion ; and there was such an embarrassment
of riches that one was nearly smothered in
paper. The readers sat or stoo<l or screwed
themselves up as they might ; they knocked
cjuch other's head.«, and troil on each other's
toc.«, II nd jolted each other's elbow.s, from
sheer want of space ; and, when the gas was
liglited ond the room filled with evening
readers, (there was always an escape of gas
(lavouring the air,) oh, the temperature 1
There was a degree of discipline — probably
connected in some degree with that paucity
of space — quite rigorous. The daily papers
were framed up against the wall, the weeklies
and proviucinls were placed on two tables,
the Irish and Scotch were poked into a little
corner, the pamphlets and miscellanies wer»
placed in portfolios, while the mnut.Wit% »xv\
I
\
•:m)
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
IL
■|ii»rU!r!ii-s wore boarded — not technically but
literally ; for each was strung to a wooden
hoard, from which the reader was requested
in no wise to remove it. Regular visitors
were aceustouu-d to observe a constant
work of improvement going on in those
rooms. The number of periodicals and papers
increased — from French and German journals
we got on to S])anish — new means of estab-
lishing order and providing a place for every-
thing (so that any Journal might at once
be found) were always being brought into
play. The conductor of that room never
was satisfied that ho had brought it to
perfection. It filled well, and attracted
many foreigners. At the little wicket the
foreigner was courteously told in French,
Italian, or German that he had to pay a
penny on entrance.
Suddenly one day this well-ordered room
fell into confusion. Although it had given no
previous signs of decline or fall, it was mani-
festly suffering the throes of dissolution.
Presently it died out IJut it died in Oxford
Street only to be resuscitated in Holborn, in
a spacious and well-appointed saloon behind
a tailor's shop. The shop in Oxford Street
became devoted to pure stationery, and a dash
of the tailoring business was thrown into the
News Room for a change. Whether we are to
regard the tailor as the grand promoter of the
undertaking, or the lessee of the promises who
reserves a privilege of advertising himself
freely among the news-readers, we do not
know. We are not bound to acknow-
ledge any impertinent suggestions of a con-
nection existing between penny news and
guinea trousers. The News Rooms behind
the tailor's sho)) arc large, commodious, and
well supplied. The grand step made by the old
News Room in the course of its resuscitation
was the -introduction of the practice of filing a
large number of the journals, both metropo-
litan and provincial. A certain amount of
success or capital is necessary before the pro-
prietor of a News Room can file the journals
he receives instead of selling them. A body
of filed papers will, however, be found in the
end to form the most substantial ba.«is of
profit for any establishment of this kind. It
should be a place supplied with ample means
of reference as well as of daily current in-
formation. So far, therefore, the resuscitated
News Room is improved. It is improved also
in breadth of house-room. The papers, British
and foreign, arc also, wc believe, not less
liberally supplied than under the old rigime.
With more simce, however, has come leas
scrtipulous attention to the necessity of neat-
ness and order, and a bu.sy visitor may by
chance waste ten minutes in the endeavour to
find any particular journal that he may wish
to see amon^ the confused mass of papers on
the table. We are certain, however, that if
the business has not changed hands, this
objection will soon vanish.
In all these rooma^ except perhaps the
smallest, there are provided Directories
Court Guides, Railway Gui<le8, maps of Lon-
don, Law Lists, and other books of comraon
reference. In the case of such books, it is
convenient for every one to know where they
can at any time be seen. In most of the
rooms — wo have already instanced one —
letters arc uken in for strangers or sub-
scribers. In all of them letters can bo written.
There should be also, as in the Strand est«
blishmcnt, lavatories and other accommoda
tion for the pedestrian in London streets.
There are half a dozen little wants, the
ministering to which can very fairly be made
part of the machinery of the Penny Newt
Room.
Penny News Rooms prosper very well in
our northern toniis, and there is no reason
why they should not abound in Londoa
Peel's Coffee-house in Fleet Street, Deacon's
in Walbrook, and the Chapter Coffee-house,
have become famous as coffee-houses for the
files of papers that they keep. They have
supplied admirably in their way, but still
inadequately, a part of the great want which
is now forcing the Penny News Rooms into
existence. When we first broached the sul>-
ject, wc referred to the example more espe-
cially of Paris ; and any reader who refers
to what wc then said,* will find that we
have hitherto been by no means too bold
in our ventures. Wliije we are timidly
grafting news upon philology, photography,
or tailoring, in Paris the Sfilona Je Uetvn
exist of the highest character. AbundioM
of French, English, German, Italian, Dnlds
Spanish, and American newspapers ; rcrim^
magazincj^ and other penodicals ; ^Mt%
atlases, and maps ; a handsomely-bound at
lection of classical and popular literatim |^
spacious windows letting in a flood of firit
by day, and shaded and chastened gas-li^li
for use in the evening ; embossed mapa ■
the walls and writing conveniences on ttt
tables ; green velvet sofas and divans ; lani
mirrors and elegant decorations — all araSaM
at a charge of four sous or twopence pa
day. As wc then al.oo stated, there are m
less than four hundred of these re adiii F
rooms in Paris ; and if the reader should tA '
no desire for the luxuries of TeWet lad
mirrors, he could find abundance of establiib-
ments to which the rate of admission is tM
sous or one penny.
Heartily wishing prosperity to thone *i»
have established, or may hereafter establiib,
well-conducted Penny News Rooms, we tan
now to an allied subject of still greater interMt
and importance. An attempt is being madt
in Westminster to set on foot, under ti*
shadow of the Abbey, Reading and RefVeib-
ment Rooms for working people. Penw
News Rooms are frequented by all classet:
but chiefly by those who are coniparativi^
well to do. The introduction of rvfreshmeoB
• Hauahold WonU, YoL ItL p. 81.
t
Chvim D.<t«M.|
A RUSSIAN STRANGER.
91
inU> them would defeat their purpo!«c and
destroy tbeir character. The RtHuliiig; nnd
Refreshmfent Rooms for working people arc
dcsij^iicd to supplj- in the best possible way
Uie particular wnats of a class. Tlic first
room of the kind ever opened is in Cdiiiburgli,
where it n-ds estabiisbcd about a year ago.
Thevo arc now in that city sevcml othent
Thr3- »ri' opened at fire o'clock in the morn-
ing, nnii provide at that hour coffee or
con)fort«blL" breakfa.sts for many n man wlio
used to commence work with a gla.sa of
wliiKky, Thousands of working men,
wanting refreshment, go to a public-house
becau.se they scarcely know what eli** to do.
To take the ease of Westminster — in which
district it is projKJsed that the first London
rooms of this kind shall he established — there
arc in the neighbourhood of the Abbey great
DumbtTs of work-pcople employed ujwn the
new Victoria Street, many of whom come
from a distance and are compelled either to
bring food with them and eat it in the open
air, or to retire into the public-houses. Two
large public-houses hare been in fact created
for their use. U'by not create .'something more
desirable If ETcry one who is acquainted with
that stran;fe and ctct widening I^ondon
boundary of bricks and mortar, among which
workmen are for ever stirring, and out of
which hou.si'>< are for ever risinyr, knows how
the public-bouiics are built out in the fields
at rijrular distances, in antiripation of the
workpeople who presently will swarm about
theni. Why not set on foot the practice of
providing in a better way for the comfort of
respectable and titeady workmen, who accept
now unwillingly the tap-room as a neces-
sary but most undesirablu kind of accommo-
dation?
The Reading and Refreshment Rooms
for wnrkinp people, which it is thought
desirable to found in those and other localities,
»re by no moans intended to diffuse tecto-
talism. They should supply meals on any
scale within tlie workman s means; he will
rccpiire generally roast or boiled meat for hi."?
dinner, and he will in most cases like a gla-ss of
beer Tht>re is no reason why, with a few
obviously n-Jvsunable prccnutionF, anytliinp
that is comfortable within the limit.s of
moderation should be denied. There arc in
London some few cheap lo<lpng-hou.ses for
the work-pcoplp, in which they can get a
good dinner, ini^luding beer, for sixpence,
and a woman who has kept such a hon^e
for some years allows that she makes fifty
per cent, on Iter whole outlay. Contenting
themselves witli a more reasonable return
for their investments the founders of Refresh-
mcnt and Reudinj Room.s for working men
could easily provide at a cost within the
means of every industrious man a place in
which durinR the interralsof labour he could
wash, if he please<I. eat and drink, and obtain
rational intellectual amusement
We trust that titc promoters of the scheme
at Westminster, and of all cheap News Rooms,
will succeed in their good work, and stimulate
to exertion many active imit.itors.
A RUSSIAN STRANGER.
Aw illustrious stranger made his appear-
ance in London in the year eighteen hmidrcd
and fifty -one. He w.ns not entirely unknown;
the jewellers, and tlie lapi<laric.«, and the
dealers in articles of rertd had long appre-
ciated him, and by them he was rccog:nised .is
a valuable acquaintance; but to the world at
large his very existence was scarcely known.
When he made his first appearance in a
polished green jacket, the inquiry ran around
— who is he; what is his name ; whence does
he come; and how does he make his Jacket J
It was found that his name was JIalnchite ;
that he belonged to a Russian family; ami
that his jacket, like that of a harlequin, wfis
a patchwork of pieces placed edge to edge.
Still there were anxious queries put forth —
What is malachite? and wo have reason to
believe that among the millions who made
their first acquaintance with this foreigner
in the year named, there is a vcrj' notable
pur-centagc who could not and cannot yet
answer this question. And yot it deserves
to be answered, as we may soon see.
One very strange circurastanco coimectcd
with malachite Is, that it is not a stone or a
marble of any kind; it has neither lime, nor
clay, nor flint, nor sand in its composition —
nothing whirli can be considered as a neces-
sary or integrant part of stone or marble or
alabaster. It is a salt A sore puzzle this
will be to those (and their name is legion)
who recognise salt only as a condiment to be
added in little crumbles to savoury mouthfuls;
but the learned chemists have a way of
applying the term salt, which it is worth
while to know. When an acid is combined
with a metal, or the oxide of a metal, or an
alkali, or an earth, the compound becomes a
Bah — the chemists say 80, ami therefore of
cour.sc it must be so. Now the delicate white
gmnular substance which we can buy for
daily u.se at three pounds for a penny, and
which >Ve should be perfectly willing to buy
at a shilling a pound if we could not obtain it
for less, is a salt because it is composed of
muriatic acid and the alkali soda (or more
strictly chlorine and sodium) ; and by the
8.itne token malachite is a salt because it
fon-ifists of carbonic acid and oxide of copper.
We need not carry our chemistry further
than this ; suffice it to say that malachite is
really and tnily carbonate of copper. There
may be, and are other forms of c.irlwnale of
copper; but raalaohite is believed to acquire
its remarkable and beautiful appeartmce by
being formed in dropit, a sedimentary deposit
analogous to stalactite and stalagmite. It is
supposed by Sir Roderick Murclii.-ion that the
carbonate was once a liquid, and that it gra-
dually Bolidititsd by slow dropping— iuat. %& \&
t
i
M
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
ICariMMtf
the case at the petrifying dripping well near
Knaresborough. Every mass of it seems to
have been grouped round a centre, in more
or less concentric layers; and according to
the varying richness of the solution at dijfcr-
cnt times, so do the concentric-layers exhibit
a lighter and darker tint of green. A beau-
tiful theory is this ; for it explaias not only
the globular or rounded form of the masses,
but also the rich play of green tints observa-
ble in all specimens of malachite.
It is a necessary consequence, or rather
a necessary preliminary, that ores of copper
should exist near the localities whence mala-
chite is obtained ; for it is & solution of the
carbonate of metal which produces the gem
(if malachite may be calted a gem, which it
almost deserves to be). It is not disseminated
in large masses, like a metallic ore ; it seems
rather to have trickled into clefts and cavi-
ties, which determine its dimensions. Rarely
can a piece be obtained weighing so much as
twenty pounds. It is softer than marble,
very much heavier, brilliant in its lustre, and
almost silky in the delicate gleam of its green
streaks; yet these qualities ore marred by
the extreme diflBculty of working it Fragile
and yet obbdnate, it sorely tries the patience
of the workman. A Russian, however, is
accustomed to patience; and ho has con-
quered in ids Ume moro obstinate things than
malachite.
Another curious circumstance connected
with malachite is, the extremely limited
number of spots where it has been found.
Siberia and Australia are nearly the only
two which can bo named. In Australia the
discovery has been very recent; but. in
Silx-ria malachite has long been known.
Until within a few years, the largest mass
obtained weighed about a hundred poods, (a
pood equ:ls thirty-six English pounds); it
was obUiincd from the copper-mine of M.
TourclianinofF, at Goumecheff (oh! these
Russian names), and is deposited in one of the
National Museums. But this has been beaten
into insignificance by a recent discovery, to
which are due the magnificent specimens of
malachite brought to England. The Messrs.
Dcmidotr, of St Petersburgh, are the owners
of some copper mines in the Ural mountains;
and while the miners were in search of the
metallic ore, they on one fortunate day
lighted upon a mass of malachite, weighing
not less than three thousand poods. The
miners were able to detach this in one block,
and they then met with another thousand
poods weight, filling up clefts and crevices in
the surrounding rock. What a treasure this ;
con^id( ring that a fair specimen of malachite
will bring fifteen shillings per English pound 1
Tiicre is supposed to bo a still larger deposit
of malachite near the spot whence this mass
W.1S obtained : precious nuggets (albeit green)
which m.iy by and bye put money into the
pockets of' the proprietors.
liut like other treasures, malachite requires
the hand of man before it becomes practically
valuable. The large masses crumble in the
air, generally into pieces of two to four pounds
weight; and the question arises how to work
so very brittle a material. It is not altogether
a new art ; for museums and royal palaoeSi
in many parts of Europe, contain specimenf
of inlaying or veneering with malachite.
But when Messrs. Dcmidolf made their grand
discovery, an incentive was given towards
the adoption of larger mechanical appliances.
They determined to establish a manufkbtory
of their own at St Petersburgh, which they
placed under the care of M. Leopold Joifriand,
who left no means untried to obtain a mastery
over the material, and make it applicable to
ornamental purposes. How he succeeded in
his task, the malachite doors at the Crystal
Palace testified ; and what difficulties he hai
had to surmount, the following details will
show.
In the first place, then, it must be borne in
mind that the malachite is used, not in mas(^
but as a thin veneer. The pieces are cut by
saws into veneers varying from a quarter to a
twelfth of an inch in thickness. To effect this
the block is cemented upon a carriage which
has a traversing motion along a little rail-
way; and the malachite is kept fbrcildy
pressed against the edge of a vertical drcnlu
saw; fine sand and water are continnallT
applied to the cut, until the slice of malachite
is at length severed from the block. Thu k
the block sliced away, not quite bo qoieklr
but much more carefully than the houflewifel
quartern loaf. Where a curved surlao* ii
to bo covered with malachite, the sawtihr
cutting the veneer are bent to a corremari-
ing curvature ; and an extrctacly ddicA
and precarious procciis of cutting .tk*
ensues.
The slices being cut, their junction in(M
uniform plane is the next point attended h
Here the most unwearied attention ia cilU
for. In every piece of malachite, the dot
and light streaks of green form gnccM
curves, varying infinitely in appearance Nmi
it would not satisfv an artistic eye to ■■
pieces joined together edge to edge vittat
any reference to varying tints of the SiniMi
there would be a mottled, confused, indeUk
jumble of bits of curves and bits of tintL H*
workman, consequently, selects his piooei fHk
especial reference to their strealdogi, m1
combines them edge to edge in such a way*
to carry out somewhat like a principle 4
design — not stiff and formal, but just lol-
cient to satisfy the eye by a kind of intdfigi
bility of arrangement This is very diiBcdl
to accomplish, on account both of the sn^
ncss of the pieces and the variation of th«r
shape. Every little fragment has its edfd
cut by means of a copper wheel. For each
joint there must be two or three little coops
grinding wheels employed, one to give th
convexities or protuberances to one edge, ani
the other to impart the concavities or amn^ I
eta«<wn>kwL.]
A RUSSIAN STRANGER,
93
l^
siona to tlio other edge. It is in these joinings
tliat JL JolTrinnd has made tlie niost niiirkcd
inaproveinunls. Before the establishment of
tlic manufactory at St Petershupgh, all mala-
chite veneering had straight edges to the
Heparatc pieces, and rery little attention was
paid to the veins or markings ; but the
curved joinings non* oflbrd many facilities
for producing elegance and symmetry in
marking.
The fixing of these numtwrless little iiicces
upon the ground-work which ia to support
theui ij not so difhcult an art as those which
precede it; but still it roquircs great care and
attention. This ground-work or substratum
may be stone or maible ; but it is generally
iron or copper. Tlie malachite is cemented
down piece by piece, each in its proper posi-
tion. Small interstices are left hero and
there, which are aftcr^Tirds filled up with
green breccia — plaster coloured with pow-
dered malachite, and Hpecklcd with minute
fragment;;. When the whole is filled up,
the surface is ground with s.and, to bring
it to a proper level ; and after this it is
poliiihed.
Those who remember (and few will forget)
the gorgeous miitachito productions in the
Rustiian department at the Crystal Palace
will be able to fonn .some faint conception
of the dilticulties entailed in their execution.
Every pound of malachite becomes reduced
by weight to half a pound by the time it
has reached the form of veneer, and fur-
ther reduced to a quarter of a pound by
the waste unavoidable in adjusting and tit-
ting. The veneered surface thus assumes
a value of about three guineas a pound;
and OS there arc at least two pounds and a
half to the square foot, this gives a value
of seven or eight guineas for a square foot
of malachite veneer, f^jr material alone, irre-
spective of the value of the labour bestowed
upon it.
Some of the churches in St PetersBurgh
are Mui to h&vc fiutcd columns of malachite,
which present an exquisitely bcaiitiful ap-
pearance ; but nothing ever seen out of
Ru.-'Mia has ever cquolli:^ the wonderful pro-
ductions which were sent over to us in
eighteen hundred and fifty-one. There were
transmissions of this remarkable material
from a few other quarters. Thus, a Derhy-
tthirc firm, accustomed to works in gems and
stones, prepared marble slabs with a surface
of malachite ; and a South Australian (Irm
showed that the celebrntcd Burra liurrri
copper mines are capable of yielding flue
roalnchif e ; and a Prussian firm e.xliil>ited a
beautiful silver casket with four tablets of
malachite ; and some of the mining corapanies
of Ku&Ma exhibited masses of the substance
just AS they had been obtained from their
ro'-Wy bed. But all these sank into insig-
nilicnnce before the gorgeous productions of
the Mi'ssR", DcmidoiT. Who can forget the
chimney-piece, and the round, and oval, and
square tables, and the chairs, and the tazzo,,
and the vases, and the pede.^tals, and the
clock, and above all, who can forgot tf>e
door.s ? These doors, suitable for the folding-
doors of a grand saloon, ond measuring
together about fourteen feet iu height, by
seven in width, were made "f metul, covered
with malachite veneer about a quarter of an
inch in thickness — much thicker than is
ordinarily used. Tho cement with which
the veneer was fastened to tlie metal was
Dtode with fragments of the malachite itself^
so AS to correspond with it in colour. It was
stated by the Messrs. DemidoO' that those
two doors employed thirty men upwards
of a year to Jit, finish, and polish the mala-
chite veneer! One almost feels inclined to
ask whether, after all, they were worth so
much labour; but this is a delicate poli-
tico - cconomico - sesthetico - social question,
which must not hastily be answered. Tho
malachite productions altogether were valued
at the largo sum of eighteen thousand
guinea.^.
Such is this illustrious Russian stronger —
malachite. When the name was scarcely
known in England, there waji another
analogous substance well known to our
jewellers and wearers of jewels — turquoise. It
IS curious to trace the points of resemblance
between them. Both occur in small portions
mostly rounded, imbedded in other rocks.
Both owe their colour to copper. Both can
with care ho cut, and both receive an exquisite
polish. Tlio chief diffbrence Ls, that while tho
Olio presents various tints of rich green, the
other has a delicate blue or greenish blue
colour. As the m&lachitc ntliuirers have,
almost to this day, been mu-^h in doubt
whether malachite ought to be considered a
Btone ; so was turquoise for many years a
mystery ; it being a matter for speculation not
only what it is, but whence it comes. Some
persons thought ihat turquoisie is a sort of
fossil ivory titij^d ivith copper ; while others
stoutly maintained its claim to the rank of a
true mineral. There appear, indeed, to ho
diOerent kinds of turquoise, owing their blue
colour more or less to the presence of a little
copper ; and it is supposed that .some of the
specimens which contain phosphoric aijd are
bones or teeth of animals, mineralised by the
cirocta of a turquoise solution. Be this as it
may, tho Turks and Persians ore amazingly
fond of turquoise ; they wear it as a gem in
diadems and bracelets ; they employ it as an
adornment for the hilts of swords and the
handles of knives ; and they value it as an
amulet or Lilisraan. It is near Nishaporc, in
Persia, that tho truo turquoise is chiefiy
found. It is generally attached in small
pieces to porphyritie rock, at some depth
below the surface of the ground ; but some-
times it seems to have bubbled out from the
rock in the form of Uttio beads or pimples :
white, nt other times, the blue turquoise matter
pervades the flssurcb of the rock in the ^orm of
4
\
94
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[CoBAncUd if
veins. Tt thiia becomes evident that turquoise
has either been at one time liquiik-d like
malachite, or h.is been in a molten state by
heat The mines belong to the Shah, and
he farms tSem out to the villagers who dig
for the turquoii'e. The prwluce is either sold
to travelling merchants who come to the
villages, or it is sent for sale to Meshed. The
lapidaries in that city cut and polish the
turquoise, and bring it into the various forms
fitted for ornamental use ; and the gems thus
made find their way, by means of the
merchant caravans, to Herat, Candahar,
Turkey, Bokhara, and other countries. Such
at lca.st used to be the case when Mr. Baillie
Fra.wr travelled and wrote; but Persia is
such an out-of-the-way place in these our
railway days, that it is difficult to know
what IS doing there at present AVc have
Shylock'a authority that a turquoise, especially
if given by Leah to a bachelor, is worth
a " wilderness of monkeys ;" but notwith-
standing this indefinitely lai^e valuation,
turquoises are much less known in Europe
than in the East Whatever may be the
analogies between the green Russian and the
blue Persian, however, there is this difference
— the malachite is used as a veneer, and the
turquoise is not
TRUST AND NO TRUST.
I MEET my friend Claypaw once or twice
In the year, commonly in Cheapside ; now
and then at a friend's house. When we meet
he shakes hands with me in a formal friendly
way, and looks round the corner of mo for
the bits of shirt that ought to be apparent at
my elbows. They ought to be, but are not
yet apparent; and Claypaw is, I fear, dis-
gusted at the slowness with which I proceed
towards the verification of his prediction.
For Claypaw is a practical man, a man who
knows the world, and ho has booked me for
a fast coach on the road to ruin. I am all
that he is not ; if he, therefore, dubs himself
with justice practical, I must be fantastical.
Nevertheless I feed, and clothe, and house
my-^elf, take care of Mrs. Green, and lay by
some provision for the future. Mis.<ing, no
doubt, many a pound, T hit upon a good deal
of pleasure : life is, indeed, much pleasanter
to me than Claypaw finds it Claypaw,
shoulil this meet your eye, yoti will know
that it is the writing of your cousin Phineas
Green, whose wife and seven children ought
lonj; since to have rubbed all the nap out of
his coat; Green, the unpractical man, the
theorist — and here ho beards you.
At the bottom of my worldly theorising lies
—as you know, Claypaw— the firm belief
that men and women are, in the main, good
fellows ; ami that because I happen never in
my life to have seen A. B. (one of the eight
hundred million, the pleasure of whose
acquaintAncc it has been unfortunately im-
possible for ine to make) I have no ri^'bt to
iL™^
set A. B. down as untnist worthy, fence about
when I hold communication with A. B., or
expect from A. B. anj' injury whatever.
You, Claypaw, tell me that by this theory I
lay myself open to be cheated right and left,
that I have been already seriously bitten
once or twice, and that I shall get a bite that
will be fatal presently. I am at i.ssuc with
you there.
Of course I do not mean to propose that, in
the present state of the world, men should
let any large stake depend too lightly on the
assumed credit of a stranger. Let it l>e
granted that I should not think it theoretically
proper to place the key of Mrs. Green's
pantry in the hands of the aforesaid A. B.,
without receiving from some X. Y. Z. of
known respectability assurance that A. B.
also was worthy of respect Such proper
a.ssurance could be sought in no distrustful
spirit. In all smaller matters I am theo-
retically disposed until I sec rca.son to the
contrary to ttkc any man's good will and
honesty at once for granted.
Again, I should say that I approve bcariily
of every business arrangement or strict habit
of oversight which makes it difficult for a
dishonest action to escape discovery, because
in that way temptations to crime are much
lessened ; and though we may be in the main
good folk-s, wo are in grain also peccabla
We ought not to trust one another with oor
eyes shut. Let us work cheerily ; but ki
every man have sense enough to Icnow vha
an undue advantage has been taken of hii
confidence. Wo need not bite and ring
every coin we touch, and we may tain to
ourselves, now and then, a bad one n-
suspiciously ; but we ought, nevertbeldi^ ■■
a rule, to know the look of a bad sbiS^[;
Let us deal so with men in worldly inir
course.
Before T show you by examples, my dtf
cousin, how it is that I am not yet thm^
bare, T must lay down as an abstract p ri ndpli
another uf my theories which you regard,!
know, as a finger-post to shame. I attest
no mystifications, make no struggle to or- (I
round myself with false appearances, letewf
man know fairly and freely w much of ■'
ways, means, or opinions, as it may pn6
him — not mc — to be acquainted with, ad
take my chance. You tell me that, as I pt
no such candour in return (so, at least, J«
believe), I expose all my weak points *
people prompt to take advantage of thcOi
throw away my armour to fight men «k*
come against mc harnessed cap-a-pie. if JM
be rights Claypaw, and if I do (as I don'^
live in a state of daily battle amonft folks wbi
have thrown truth aside, I think the W
must be that they have cast off tlicir aimoo;
not I mine.
Those are my two main theories, prsLtial
frienil. I am for a path through bright ligk
and free air, yon for a burrow undcrgTOiiii:
I would be a lark ; you would be a mo!e. 1
Ckila BakMrn.)
TRUST AND NO TRUST.
118
walk with my ncighboar arm-in-arm as «
friend, you follow with an eye upon his pockets.
As a man of business you reply thnt the mole
turns up anJ stores up-man}' a treasure, but
that the liiik finds ncitliiT worms nor furthnuts
ill the empty sky. A}iO that I get no butter
for my pui>nips from the soft wonls of my
neighbour, while it is you only wlio know
how to RL't at his purse. It is for me (o
stai-vc, for you to fiitten. But you see, Clay-
paw, I do not starve.
That brewery transaction. There, you
think, you Imve me on the hip. Didn't I go
and invest all my capitAl in partnership with
a ptranpor whom I took to be an honest man,
but who turned out to be a scamp 7 Didn't
I gvt involved? Wasn't I forced to borrow?
Didn't I narrowly escape bankruptcy ? Didn't
I inCTir oblipttions that were for years a drag
upon my after life ; hadn't I to eat bread
for years when I was earning cike? And
wa.«n't that enough to .Kickcn mc of putting
confidence in man ? Mr. Claypaw, to all j'our
first question*, yes; but to your last, emphati-
cally no. That brewery transaction is the
source of half my belief in tlio goodness of
humanity.
When I vras a young man and wroto poetry,
my licart was shattered three several times
— once by Polly Bacon, aged eleven — but
her « liora once I loved the most, [ soon forgot
I had loved at all. My ill-fated livart next
bcoaire an abandoned urn on account of
Mary Loiii'iji .lohason, who was too like a
dre;uii of ileavcn to Vw merited by rac, and
went to a school nt Tonbridge Wells, from
which she went (o an aunt in Ireland for the
holidays. My breast then thrilied before the
look of Mariu Susannah, but before I wag
niiiettM.'!! ^ears old I sang on account of her,
in the spint of a poet who in those days wa^
a favourite of mine,
"Awny! away! my ei\rly rlruain,
Kemeiiibraiiixi never inn^t nwuke:
Oh I wliere in L«tl>e'» fiiblod ittroamt
My lool^b heart, be still, or break."
It would not bo still, and it broke. Now
while 80 many breakagu.i were going on
within me, I was not at all contented with
the world. It was a great alistraction.
Something very hard and very cold. My
goal iK-gan with an S for Kunimer, the
world with a W for winter. They were op-
posites. It never occurred to me that the
world io which I sulked was a great universe
of souls.
How r despised money! The pelf for
which men sold thcmaclves, the calf they
wonshippcd, when wm not even I a much
more proper calf for them to honour t That
men with money comforted their parcnt.s in
old age, fed and instructed children ; that it
represented physical existence, and that the
struggle for it was ordained in Heaven as a
metluxi of dcvelojiing 80cief3', of widening
the human intellect, of testing, exercising
strengthening the virtues that aro in ua, I
never then so much as dreamed. I said tliat
men kept their hearte locked up in their
cash-boxes, and called the search for gold a
sperits of slavery, coinparetl it to forced toil-
ing in the mines. For then I was too young
to see what some have never yet discovered,
tliat out of the active honest struggle, even
for the gold we sneer at, ought to come iho
health and freedom of the spirit ; that the
mind so labouring and putting forth all its
resources and its strength, !■! as the boily
that becomes athletic by good honest toil in
the free air ; that the mind with few ilesirea
to carry it abroad is as the body locked in
jail, or glowing cumbrous and unwholesome
in the hermit's cell If money bo loved, not
for itself, but tor its uses (truly they sutfer
who misuse it), I have begun now to think
that it lies at the root not only of all com-
merce, all civilisation, but that it gives rise
to nine-tenths of all the strong and active
virtue in the world, as truly as ever it can
have bcon said to beget ainc-tenllis of all the
vice.
Now, my dear cousin, I got these very
theoretical opinions out of my unlucky
brewery transaction. I had sung about the
Hollow World, and the false [mm-] that made
up the triuin|ihs on it> .stage. Thercarter I
made my ilcbut in it nnd broke down. But I
wa-s not hissed. The little bark nf my for-
tunes after I \vu\ Ifiuuclied it w.vs unfortu-
nately bonnled by a pirate who hung out
false colour.-: ; T was allured, plundered, taken
in tow for a short time, and cut adrift. But
so adrift I found that the ships on the high
sens were not all pirate vessels, an<l that their
captains were not dead to the requirements
of a vessel in distresw.
I know, my dear Claypaw, your distaste for
metaphorical statements of all kinds. I beg,
therefore, to inform you plainly that I had
reason to feel the Hearts, with a capital II, of
business men beating quite wartuly, often un-
der form.ll letters three lines long, that began
with " Mr. Phineas Green, Sir," and ended
with " obedient scrvantSs Firm, Brothers, and
Co.'^ I found that so long as any Firm,
Brothers, and Co. felt satisfied that Mr.
Phineas Green, Sir, was trying no experi-
ments of tactic! with them, they met truth
with trust, candour with liberality and kind-
nes.s. Some there were who went selfishly
to work, but I found the world on the whole,
though I had such bad luck in it, warm to the
hone. Though nobody would do my own
work for me, and supply my purse out of
his own cotfer.s, I expected that from none
But I found reason to e.xpcct and did receiv
from A. B., from C. ])., from E. F., and
from a whole alphabet of strangers, a full
return for all frank trust that I was Liught
to put in them. With very few exception*, I
had only to hoh'evc men good and find them
so. Cousin Claypaw, should the Bank of
England ever break, and should you ever
I
96
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
tumble to the bottom cif the hill that you arc
diligently mounting with no help but your
own staff, of course y»u will not sit lamenting
at the bottom, but let me advise you not again
to work your way up in proud silence. You
may get on ikster, but, believe me, the
fliinbiug is much pleasantcr when cheerful
talk beguiles the way, when you are ready to
k't any fellow-traveller hold out a hand to
help your efforts where the hill is steep,
and not less ready to stand still and lend
a pull yourself when it is wanted. You
may get on faster with your iron pole, but
it is my theory that you would get on
better if you went in company with flesh,
and blood, and bone. Your distrust may be
very practical, my worldly doctrine may be
very theoretical, but I abide by the belief
that there are more hands in the world ready
to help a man than fists ready to knock him
down.
Now, my dear cousin, if my theory bo
worth a farthing, can you tell me why there
should be any need for all the trouble that
\vu take about what arc called, very properly,
appearances! If the appearance correspond
to the reality, there will be no need to sec
about its manufiicture. It would be waste
study, indeed, to take thought of what we
should do to make a globe seem to be round.
If tbc appearance be at variance with truth,
we make it to our hurt and damage ; always
to the damage of our comfort, often to tlie
damage of our worldly prospects which, in
such cases, can be looked aftci; in no thorough-
ly straightforward way. You practical men
think much about appearances, and may
get profit out of them : to me, as a theo-
retical man, they would be fatal. It is not
the lark's wish or interest to seem to be a
parrot
I know that a great deal of the struggle
for appearances — as, for example, the desire
to live behind the largest possible brick
frontage, though one must rob a lodger to
obtain the means of doing so — comes oftcner
of weakness than dishonesty. I know, also,
that any man who is disposed to carry out
my theories, will find it, seen even from its
own point of view, the most complete mistake.
The world does not respect people for seeming
what they are not — it generally finds out
sooner or later what they are. On the con-
trary, let any one of my sect of theorists defy
comment by showing himself undisguisedly
for what he is, and the poor cowards of
appearance-makers will bo the first to respect
him for his courage, and to wish that they
could be as bold themselves. He may go
about with a true seeming of poverty, but he
will find it less despised than the false seem-
ing of wealth. A man who desires friends and
neighbours in their intercourse with him as a
matter of courtesy to take for granted that
he is what he is not, pitches a false key, struns
the voices of his companions,and converts good-
nature itself into a daily system of pretences,
lie throw.4 his whole social position Just so
much out of joint as to create petty discom-
fort everywhere, and beget petty distrusts.
Nor was this all — as most people know — sheer
nonsense. Nobody worth listening to will
tell you that he regards his friends in any
proportion whatever to the amount of brick-
work and upholstery surrounding them.
When I was first married to Matilda Jane
I could have said, "My income makes it
proper that I should assume a certain social
status."
But there were the brewery debts. Very
well. I made no secret of them, attempted
no sccmings, lived on a little, and maintained
really a better and sounder socinl status among
the very same friends that I should have had
dancing quadrilles, if I had thought that
neces.«ary, in a drawing-room. Between five
and nine years ago my first three children,
Matilda Jlaria, Pliincas Ernest, and Victoria
Kcgia, though I had then (but for the
brewer}') an ample income, went withoat
nursemaids in their infancy. To save their
mother's arms, I carried them about con-
stantly myself under a fire of eyes ih»i
London neighbours. It was an honest thing
to do, and so I did not mind the look of it
Now the conventional principle in my wt^
hours and those people whom I met rinifil
them at first to reflect that " it looked m to
sec a gentleman carrying a child in \Kg-
clothes down a public street" Deeper An
the conventions lay another feeling, wtitk
suggested that it was no very bad or qnetr
thing after all to see an infant in its fauflA
arms ; and that the public, which is made 9
wholly of Others, mothers, and children, m
no reason to be scandalized. It was not (k
the contrary, I found new friendships nuit
the faster, and old friendships made the firatf
for all such proofs of resolute adherence if
my worldly theories. Paulina Matflda,Mr
last child, lies now in the arras of a nane
maid, born to a house deficient in no itSMB-
able comfort
Are you now able to understand bov ft
is that tlte world, my dear Claypaw, tnili
me as a friend, and why it is of no use Ir
you to look round at my elbows t You n9
predict my ruin as a theorist ; nevertheha
my coat will remain whole, I think. LetM
shake hand.s, therefore, more warraly thenctf
time we meet
i
" FamiliaT in their Mvutht as HOUSEHOLD WORDS"
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
A WEEKLY JOURNAL
CONDUCTED BY CHARU-ES DICKENS.
Voi. Vlll.
^cELRATH <t BARKER. PUBLISHERS.
Oirnca X<>* II Sriii'c* «T«ft«T. Xiw Toms.
Wui.LK No. 184
FRAUDS ON THE FAIRIES.
We mny assume that we aro not singular
in entertaining a very great tcndcrat-ss for
the fttiry literature of our childhood. What
«nch:int'fil IIS then, and i-s ciptivaling a tnillion
of younir fiincics now, has, at the a.-ni)c blessed
tirao of life, enchanted vast host.i of men and
women who have done their lonj" day's work,
•ad laid their grey head:J down lo rest. It
trould be hard to estiiii/itc the amount of
gunttenesii and mercy tlint has mode its way
•niong us through thc<e slight channelij.
ForhMraiice, coiird'Ay, cou^idenition for the
poor .ind aged, kind treatment of anim.tls, the
lo^e of nature, abhorrence of tyniuny mid
bmte force — tnnny such pi)^)d things have
been first nourished in llic child's he.irt by
this powerful aid. It ha.-; greatly helped to
keep us, in some sense, ever young, by pre-
serving through our worldly ways one slender
track not overgrown with weeds, where we
may walk with children, sharing their de-
lights.
In an utilitarian agi?, of all other times, it
is a nnnttiT of grave iinport-nncc that Fairy
tslcs should be respecte<l. Our English red
tape is l*x) magnificently red ever to be em-
ployed in the tying up of such trifles, but
every one who has considered the subject
knows full well th.it a nation without fancy,
without some romance, never did, never
can, never will, hold a great place under the
sun. The theatre, having done its worst
to dMtroy these admirable fictions — an«t
having in & most exemplary manner destroyed
itself, its arti.>it<^ and its audiences, in that
perversion of iU duty — it becomes doubly
important that the little books themselves,
nurseries of fancy as they are, should be pre-
served. To preserve them in their usefulne.s,*,
they must be as much prtservcd in their
gimpltcity, and purity, and innocent extrava-
gance, as if they were actual fact. Whoso-
ever alters them to suit his own opinions,
whatever they are, is guilty, to our thinking,
of an net of I )rc .sumption, and appropriates to
himself what 'Iocs not belong to him.
We havo liitoly olMcrved, with pain, the
intniftion of ft Whole Ilog of unwieldy dimen-
Bions into the fairy flower garden. The
rooting of the animal among the roses woiihl
in itself have nwakened in us nothing but
Vol. Vni.-No. l&l
indignation ; our pain nri.scs from his being
violently driven in by a m;>n of genius, our
own beloved friend, .Mu. (ieokc.e CariKsiiASK.
That incompamble artist is, of all men, the
last who should lay his exquisite hand on
fairy text In his own art he understands it
.so perfectly, and illu.^tnUes it so beautifully,
so humorously, so wisely, that he should
never lay down his etching noodle to " edit **
the Ogre, to whom with that little instru-
ment he can render such extraordinary
ju.stico. But, to "editing" Ogres, and Hop-
o'-my-thumb.s, and their fiimilics, our dear
morali.st has in a rash moment Ukon, as a
means of propagating tlio doctrines of Total
Abstinence, Prohibition of the sale of spirit-
uous liquors, Free Trade, and Popular Edu-
cation. For the introduction of these topics,
ho has altered the text of n fairy story ; and
against his right to do any such thing we pro-
test with all our might and m^tin. Of his
likewi.sc altering it to advertise that excellent
series of plates, " The Bottle," we .say nothing
more than that we foresee a new and im-
proved edition of Goody Two Shoes, edited
by E. Moses and Son ; of the Dervi.sh with
the bo.x of ointment, edited by Professor
Holloway; and of Jack and the ItcaiisLalk
edited by Mary Wedlake, the popular
authoress of Do you bruise your oats yet
Now, it makes not the least ditTerenc-e to
our objection whether we agree or disagree
with our worthy friend, Mr. €ruik?hank, in
the opinions ho interpolutes upon in old
fairy story. Whether good or bad in them-
selves, they are, in that relation, like the famous
definition of a weed ; a thing growing up ia
a wrong place He has no greater moral justi-
fication in altering the harmless little books
than we shouJd have in altering his best
etchings. If such a precedent were followed
wo must soon bijcoine disgusted with the old
stories into which modern personages so ob-
tnided themselves, and the stories tlicmselves
must .so(m be lost. With seven Blue Beards
in th'" iu'ld, each coming at a gallop from hij
own platform mounted on a foaming hobby,
a generation or two hence would not know
which was which, and the grout original
Blue Beard would be confouniled with tho
counterfeits. Imagine a Tiital abstinence
edition of Robinson Crusoe, with tlio rum
ieft out Imagine a Peace edition, with tho
I
I !)3
HOUSEHOLD WORDS,
(Coodmeltd tf
I
gunpowder left out, and the rum left in. Ima-
gine a Vugotarian edition, with the goat's flesh
Kilt out Imagine a Rontucky edition, to in-
troduce a flogging of that 'tamal old nigger
Friday, twice a week. Imagine an Abori-
ginos Protection Society edition, to deny the
cannibalism and make Kobinson embrace
tlm amiable savages whenever they landed.
Kobinson Crusoe would bo "edited" out of
}iis island in a hundred j'eans, and the island
would be swallowed up in the editorial ocean.
Among the other learned professions we
h.'ive now the Platform profes-sion, chiefly cx-
iroisi'd by a new and meritoriou.s class of
conunercial travellers who go about to take
the sense of meetings on various articles :
some, of a very superior description : some,
not quite BO good. Let us write the story of
Cinderella, " edited " by one of these gentle-
men, doing a good stroke of busines.<, and
having a rather extensive mission.
OscE upon a time, a rich man an<l his wife
were the parents of a lovely daughter. She
was a beautiful child, and became, at her own
desire, a member of the Juvenile Kands of
llojie when ahe waa only four years of age.
When this child was only nine years of age
her mother died, and all the Juvenile Itands
of Hope in her district — the Central dis-
trict, number five hundred and twenty-seven —
formed in a procession of two and two,
amounting to fifteen liundre<l, and followed
her to the Krave, singing chorus Number
forty -two, " come," &c. This grave was out-
side the town, and under the direction of the
Local Board of Health, which reported at
certain stated intervals to the General Uoard
of Health, Whitehall.
The motherless little girl was very sor-
rowful for the loss of her mother, and so
was her father too, at first ; but, after a year
was over, he married again — a very cross
widow lady, with two proud tyrannical
daughters as cro.sB as herself. He was aware
that he could have made his marriage with
this lady a civil process by simply making
a declaration before a Registrar ; but he was
averse to this conrso on religious grounds,
and, being a member of the Montgolflan per-
suasion, was married according to the cere-
monies of that respectable church by the
llcvcrcnd Jared Jocks, who improved the
occasion.
He did not live long with his disagreeable
wife. Having lieen shamefblly accustomed to
shave with warm water instead of cold, which
he oujrht to have used Csee Medical Appendix
11. and C), his undermined constitution could
not bear up against her temper, and he soon
died. Then, this orphan was cruelly treated
by her stepmother and the two daughters,
and was forced to do the dirtiest of the
kitchen work ; to scour the saucepans, wash
the dishes, and light the fires — which did not
consume their own smoke, but emitted a dark
vapour prejudicial to the bronchial tubes.
The only warm place in the house where she
was free from ill treatment was the kitchen
chimney-corner ; and as .she used to sit down
there, among the cinders, when her work was
done, the proud fine sisters gave her Uie name
of Cinderella.
About this time, the Kinj- of the land, who
never made war again.st anybouy, and allowed
everybody to make war against him — which
was the reason why his subjects were the
greatest mnnufncturcrs on earth, and always
lived in secunty and peace — ^gavo a great
feast, which was to last two days. This
splendid banquet was to consist entirely of
artichokes and gruel ; and from among those
who were invited to it, and to hear the de-
lightful speeches aflcr dinner, the King's son
was to choose a bride for himself. The proud
fine sisters were invited, but nobody knew
anything about poor Cinderella, and she was
to stay at home.
I She was so sweet-tempered, however, that
she a.ssisted the haughty creatures to dres^
anil bestowed her admirable taste upon them
.as freely as if they had been kind to her.
Neither did she laugh when they broke seven-
teen stay-laces in drcs.sing ; for, although she
wore no stays herself, being sufficiently ac-
quainted with the anatomy of the human
figure to be aware of the destructive effects
of tight-lacing, she always reserved her
opinions on tliat subject for the Regenerative
Record (price three halfpence in a neat
wrapper), which all good peoplo take in, and
to which she was a Contributor.
At length the wished for moment arrived^
and the proud fine sisters swept away to ths
feast and speeches, leaving Cinderella in ttl
chimney-corner. But, she could always occoDf
her mind with the general question of US
Ocean Penny Postage, and she had in her
pocket an unread Oration on that subject
made by the well known Orator, Xehemiik
Nicks. She was lost in the fervid eloqnena
of that talented Apostle when she becaiM
aware of the presence of one of those femab
relatives which (it may not be generally
known) it is not lawful for a man to many.
I allude to her grandmother.
"Why so solitary, my child?" said thi
old lad}' to Cinderella.
" Al.as, grandmother," returned the po«
girl, " my sisters have gone to the feast and J
speeches, and here sit I in the ashei '■
Cinderella !" i
"Never," crie<l the old lady with anima-
tion, " shall one of the Band of Hope despair!
Run into the garden, my dear, and fetch at
an American Pumpkin I American, bccami
in some parts of that independent countiy,
there arc prohibitory laws against the sale of
alcoholic drinks in any form. Also ; bccaoM
America produced (among many great pump-
kins) the glory of her sex, Mrs. CoIomI
Bloomer. None but an American Putnpkia
will do, my child."
Cinderdla ran into the gaiden, and broqg^
CWriM OkkvM-)
FRAUDS ON THE FAIRIES.
Ot
the largast American Pumpkin she could find.
This virtuously democralic vegetable her
^TTtndmoUier immediately changed into a
splendid couch. Then, she sent her for six
mice from the mouse-trap, which she changed
into prancing horses, free from the ohnoxjous
and ojiprefsiru posl-horse duly. Then, to the
ral-lrip in the stable for a rat, which she
changed to A .stato-coachman, not amenable
to the iniquitous aiuessed taxes. Then, to look
behind a wttcring'-pot for six lizards, which
she changed into six footmen, each with a
petition in his hand ready to present to the
Prince, signed by fifty thousani. jfcrsons, in
fkTOur of the early closing movement.
" But grandmother," gaid Cinderella, stop-
ping in the midst of her delight, and looking
at her clothes, " how can I go to the palace
in these miM:rable rags ?"
"Bo not uneasy about that, my dear,"
returned her grandmother.
Upon which the old lady touched her with
her wand, her ra^ disafipcared, and she was
l)i-a.uiifulty dretJsed, Not in the present cos-
tuini? of the fuwale .sex, wlu'ch hag been proved
to be at once grossly imniode.st and absurdly
inconvenient, but in rich sky-blue natin pan-
CaIoods' ^rallitrod at the an!ik>, a puce-coloured
•olin peliii.'^e sprinkled with silver flowcrii, and
3 vtry broail Leghorn hat The hat was
clia>trly ornamented with a rainbow-cololircd
ribbon hanging in two bell-pulls down the
Imck; the ptmtjdoon.s were ornamented wiih
a, ^'oldi.'rt stiipe ; and the effect of the whole
WHS unsja'akably sensible, feminine, and
retiring. Lastly, the old lady put on Cinde-
rellii's fet't a pair of ahoea made of glass: ob-
serving tVrnt but for the abolition of the duty
oil lliat article, it never could have been
devoted to auch a purpose; the effect of all
Htich taxes b«ing to cramp invention, and em-
liarrai» the producer, to the manifest injury
of 111 5 consumer. When the old lady had
made these wise remarks, she dismissed Cin-
<ierclU to the feast nnd speeches, charging
bcr by no means to renuun after twelve
oVIoi'k at nig) it.
Thi- arrival of Cinderella at the Monster
Cat!; rn; • urcxiiiccd a great excitement. As
s '■ m the United Stales had just
m i lie King do take the chair, ami
a.-* tilt uioiiun had been seconrleJ nnd carrieil
tinaniiiiiiiibly, the King himself could not go
forth lo receive her. But His Royal Highness
the l*rince (who was to move the second
rcsioliilionj, went to the door to hand her
from her carriage. This virtuous Prince,
bi>ing coinplctily covered from head lo foot
with Total .\bslinence Medals, shone as if
he wire iittired in complete armour; while
the intipirii'ijr flrains of the Peace Brass
Hand in the gullery (composed of the Lamb-
kin Family, i ii^hfren in number, whn cannot
bo too much encouraged) awakcm-d additional
enihiiHigintti,
The King's son handed Cinderella to one
of the reserved seata for pink tickets, on the
platfonn, and fell in love with her imuicoi-
ately. His appetite deserted hiin ; he scarcely
tu.sted his artichokes, and merely trilletl with
his gruel. When the speeches began, and
Cinderella wrappi-d in the elorjuvnce of the
two inspired delugntes who occupie<i the
entire evening in speaking to the first Keso-
hition, occasionally cried, " Hear, he:ir!" the
sweetness of her voice cotofileted her eon-
quci^t of the Prince's heart But, indeed iho
whole male portion of the a.ssembly loved
her — and doubtless would have done .so, even
if she had been less beautiful, in consi'quence
of the conlra.st which her dress presented lo
the bold and ridiculous garments of the other
ladies.
At a quarter before twelve the second
insjiircd delegate having drunk all the wiiter
in the decanter, and fainted away, the King
put the question, " That this Meeting do now
ailjoiirn until to-morrow," Those who were
uf tliul ofiinion holding up their hands, nnd
then those who were of the contnuy, theirs,
there appeared an immense majority in favour
ot the resolution which was consequently
carried. Cinderella got home in safety, and
heard nothing al' that night, or all next day,
but the praises of the unknown hidy wilit tho
sky-blue satin pantaloons.
When the time for the feast and speeches
came round again, the cross stcimiothcr
and the proud fine daughters vi'ent out in good
time to secure their places. As soon as they
were gone, Cinderella's grandmother relumed
and changed her as before. Amid n bliust of
welcome from the Lambkin family, she was
agjin handed to the pink seat on the platform
by His Rovat Highness.
This gilied Prince was a power''ul speaker,
and had the evening before him. He rose al
precisely ten minutes before eight, and was
greeted with tumultuous cheers and waving
of handkerchiefs. When the excitement had
in .some degree subsided, he proceeded to
address the meeting : who were never tired
of listening to speeches, as no gotn! people
ever arc. He held them enthmllcil for four
hours and a quarter. Cinderella forgot tho
time, and hurried away so when she heard
the first stroke of twelve, that her beautiful
dress changed bick to her old rags at tha
door, and she left one of her glass shoes
behind The Prince took it up, and vowed
— that is, made a declaration before n magis-
trate; for he olyected on principle to tho
multiplying of oaths — that ho would only
marrj' the charming creature \o w hom that
shoe belonged.
He accordingly caused an adrcrtiscmcnt to
that effect to be inserted in oil the newspapers ;
for, the ailvertiscmcnt duty, an impost most
unjust in principle and most unfair in ope-
ration, did not cxi.st in that country; ncithiT
was the sUmp on newspapers known in lh»|
land — which had as many newspapers as iU»
United States, and got as much good out of
them. Innumerable ladies aitswcrcd ihi
"1
I
100
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
(CkndacMbr
L
Advertisement and pretended that the shoe
was theirs; but, everyone of them was unable
to get her foot into it The proud fine sisters
answered it, and tried their feet with no
greater success. Then, Cinderella, who had
answered it too, came forward amidst their
scornful jeers, and the shoe slipped on in a
moment. It is a remarkable tribute to the
improved and sensible fashion of the dress
her grandmother had given her, that if she
had not worn it the Prince would probably
never have seen her feet
The marriage wa.s solemnized with great
rejoicing. When the honeymoon was over,
the King retired from public life, and was suc-
ceeded by the Prince. Cinderella, being now
a queen, applied herself to the government of
the country on enlightened, liberal, and free
principlca All the people who ate anything
she did not cat, or who drank anything she
did not drink, were imprisoned for life. All
the newspaper offices from which any doc-
trine proceeded that was not her doctrine,
were burnt down. All the public speakers
proved to demonstration that if there were
any individual on the face of the earth who dif-
fered from them in anything, that individual
was a desiiniing ruffian and an abandoned
monster. She also threw open the right of
voting, and of being elected to public offices,
and of making the laws, to the whole of her
sex ; who thus came to be always gloriously
occupied with public life and whom nobody
dared to love. And tlicy all lived happily
ever afterwards.
Frauds on the Fairies once permitted, we
sec little reason why they may not come to
this, and great reason why they may. Tlie
Vicar of Wakefield was wisest when* he was
tired of being always wise. The world is too
much with us, early and late. Leave this
precious old escape from it, alone.
TRIBUNALS OF COMMERCE.
In France, Germany, Spain, Portugal and
Sweden, men of commerce have obtained,
since generations past, tribunals other than
of law, by which their difTerencca are amica-
bly and speedily adjusted. No sooner has a
dispute arisen than the di.oputants present
themselves to one of these friendly councils;
which does all that a court of law could do,
except delay, and a great deal which no legal
tribunal could accomplish. These councils are
at once special juries and judges. In Paris
they are composed of a president ten judges,
and sixteen assistant judges, selccteii from
the commercial inhabitants of the district,
who sit in sections so arranged that each
memlKsr performs duty twice within fifteen
days. Their labours are discharged gratui-
tously ; they take cognizance not only of all
conmiercial disputes but of bankruptcies.
The leading feature in the proceedings of
these councils is despatch. So simple arc the
forms of procedure that a decision is, in most
cases, obtained immediately. The utmost
time allowed for defendant to appear in conrt
is twenty-four hours, whilst in certain caeca
requiring urgent decision the president can
command the appearance of those concerned
within an hour, if his messengers can find
them. The cases arc conducted and defended
by the disputants themselves, the interference
of attorneys being disallowed ; onlv a few
" licenciates," well acquainted with t^c com-
mercial law of the country, arc permitted
to assist in expediting cases through the
courts. That business in these places it
wonderfully facilitated will be evident when
I mention that no longer ago than eighteen
hundred and forty-eight several hundred suits
were dispo.sed of in one day before the council
of the Seine. Of course this could only be
done by weeding out all extraneous matters,
by rigorously conforming to tho known
usages of commerce, and by having seven]
judges sitting at the same time.
The bankruptcy section of this com-
mercial tribunal had been not less actively en-
gaged. It is on record that, between the
years eighteen hundred and thirty-six and
eighteen hundred and fifty — that is to say
during fifteen years — not fewer than tax. hon-
dred and sixty-four thousand fire bandred
and sixteen decisions had been giiven : which
is an average of forty-four thousand thm
hundred and one judgments in each vcar.
I would, however, remark that it is not
only in expediting proceedings that the tri-
bunals of commerce of the Continent an n
valuable: they sift matters of a techmal
character with a degree of accuracy wUdk \
no amount of legal acumen could pretend tt; ■
simply because the men composing them n \
intimately acquainted with the details aai I
usages of every day commercial life. lb |
reader may poissibly have some very fiuit \
idea of the singular technicalities whidh ooet-
sionally beset and bewilder both counsel taL \.
judges; but there are few readers who hsn t
any distinct conception of the difflculties, tU
blunders, the absurdities, the niiscUef «- j
tailed by lawyers undertaking to conduct mi i
juilgcs to decide upon matters pertainiif 1 1
strictly to trade, manufactures or science. '
The rapid strides made by art-manufitctmt, i
by chemistry applied to industry, by sciena I
in relation to our most ordinary rcquircmcDH 1 1
have materially increa.sed the conflict d "l
interests amongst the commercial part of tbe
community, and the range of knowledge ne-
cessary to unravel the intricacies of com-
mercial and manufacturing disputes. ]bdt
year tho learned in more law arc bewildend^
judges are perplexed, and suitors are St-
gu.sted with the necessity which compdl
men of law to wade through statements and
arguments on topics which are as intelligibli
to them as one of Southey's poems wouU h
to a red Indian.
Imagine for a moment the position of
counsel employ(?d to iTefuod a suit involring
gome delicate chemical invention, or a subtle
point of science. The man of law, although
a good Latiuist, would nevertheless he at bis
witH' end to understand one »:ingle iota of the
atomic theory, to fathom the mysteries of
free and latent caloric, or to prolju the depths
of the " Ph'jrimteoj'mia Lo'til'ite'ui\" wr'th
its terrific array of Sabacetates, Protocar-
horiates, and Supersulphates.
Al>out seven years since I was interested
in some raluabfe improvements in electric
telegraphs, and applied for protection for
ihcni by Letters Patent. I was opposed
by one of the great electrical Professors of
llio day, on the ground thixt my invention
was neither more nor less than an infringe-
ment of his owu patented discoveries.
Counsel hinl of course to be engaged on both
Mdes ; and, inasmuch as the points in dispute
were of a spccLiUy scientific character, my
barrister underwent several most severe
drillini;s, in the hope that I should enable him
to argue my case. Xcvcr shall I forget the
bewilderment and annoyance be suffered in
' his anxious endeavours to master the dis-
tinctive technicalities of the electric scieticc.
How he floundered amongst negative j)ole8,
and po- " "':"' uts ; how he impaled him-
self up" its of " contacting needles."
He wouiu ,....^ i,iven a dozen new silk gowns
to have mastered but one half of what I
vainly endeavoured to drum into his mind
and memory. Was it indeed possible that
in a few short hours he could Ik: expected to
comprehend the inner ditficultics of a science
which had occupied my time and anjiious
thoughts for years ?
As a scientific forioro-hope, I took my
counsel to my laboratory ; and set the model-
tcdcgraph in action in his presence. I soon
Ibund, however, that I was making matters
worse instead of better. The complicated
apparatus, the labyrinth of wires, the maze
of choniical terrni^, tlie entire novelty of the
scene, completely scattered from the lawyer's
brain the small conception he had previously
formed of the process. It was in vain that I
discnurwd upon the *' metallic circuit ;" he
slin4>k his head and intimated that that was a
circuit of which he was not a mero'ier. The
mention of " battery" he connerteH in some
way with an assault ca.se ; and, when I en-
deavoured to explain the nature ot " lateral
metallic contaijta," it was clear that he iraa-
rincd 1 was alluding insidiously to his fees.
Nor was my opponent's counsel in any better
ph;;ht The judge was still more puzzled
with the conflicting claims, and so completely
blended the two opposing inventions in one
heterogeneous whole, that in the depth of big
chaotic hcwildenncnt he decided on doing
that wliich under a wholesome state of things
should have been done in the first Instance ;
he referred the case tea practical and scientific
arbitrator ; thus in fac^ at once constituting
a most competent Tribunal of Commerce in
the person of Professor Faraday.
It is true tliat in certain cases a special
jury is formed, composed of men supposed to
bo particularly versed in the matter in hand ;
yet, although that very expedient demon-
strates the desirableness of practical tribunals,
the special jury is too often hampered and
perplexed r-ither than lided by the laboured
pleading of learned cuun.4cl ; who deem it
their duty to talk for a certain time very
wide of the subject. In llicsc cases, too,
the matter resting virtually with the jury^
the judge — who cannot and docs not attempt
to form any opinion apart finom theirs —
becomes a mere automaton.
It is not long since a circumstance occurred
in connection with one of those special jury
cases, which bears so strongly upon tbo
point I am anxious to illustrate, that I cannot
refrain from relating it. Like my own case,
it was a contested point of patent-right; tho
invention being a machine of peculiar con-
struction and application. As usual, counsel
floundered dreadfully amidst cog-wheels,
sockets, pinions, pistons, bearings, coupling-
bcxcs, and cranks. The special jury had to
depend entirely upon the witnesses to form
the faintest judgment on the merits of the
csimpeting machines.
Whi.-n counsel had finished torturing the
principal witness for the plaintiff, the fDreman
of tlie jury — a thorouii^hly practical and
shrewd man of tho world — requested hira
lo be so good as to repeat carefully his de-
scription of tho plainttif's machine ; in onler
that ho might commit it to paper, and thug
prevent any misconception. The witness
complied; and on the completion of his
details, ho was told that as he had been
a long time in the witness-box he would not
just then be called upon to hear tho paper
read over to him, but that it should be
done on his being called up for re-eiamina-
tion. The chi«f engineering witne"-* on the
other sMe was rcqucsttd, ii» a similar manner,
to detail most eniimtcly tlie several parts of
Am employer's machinery; and, having done
so, w:ts in like manner desired to stand on
one side for the present ; the foreman taking
down his words also. Further evidence was
taken ; and eventually the two engineers
were recalled separately, when the lorcmati
of the jury, having read over the accounts
of Uie two distinct machines, asked each of
them if they felt positive that the description
therein given was a true and full explanitioti
of their respective employers' inventions.
They felt no sort of hcsilation in declaring
that they did so most complctelj'.
The foreman then ad<lressed the Court,
and begged it to observe as a means of test-
ing the value of the evidence they h.ad just
received, that he had read the description of
the defendant's machine to tho {ilaintifTB
witness, and that of the plaintiff to the
defendant's witness, and that they had thoa
loa
HOUSEHOLD TTGRDS.
[CMjw toO y
both sworn to their opponent's specification.
No (loul)t if they had been left to toll their
respootivc stories in their own way, without
the worryinp; of coiinwl, they would not have
l)cen confused, and would have given clear and
distinct evidence. The ca.se was eventually
dc-cided upon the personal inspection of the
oppnsinf; machines by the members of the
jury, who thus, after all, acted the part of
Tribunals of Commerce.
T remember another circumstance which
.«till more forcibly illustrates the folly of
flinging every dispute into a court of law
whvn a reference to a tribunal of practical
men would arrange the difference on the
moment, and for the merest shadow of costs.
A City merchant had purchased a nnmVx-r of
cases of foreign goods, — I believe maccaroni.
M.iny, on being weighed and examined, were
found to be no more than half full. A hole
was discovered in these cases, and much of
the maccaroni had been bitten to pieces, so
that there could be no doubt but that the
damnire had been caused by mice. But who
was to bear the loss ? Certainly not the pur-
chaser, who had bargained for full cases and
sound maccaroni. The importer declared that
the mice must have attacked the goods while
on the wharf in Thames Street; it being
inifiossil>le his agents abroad should have
shipped the animals along with the goods.
On the other hand the wharfinger protested
tlint there was not such a thing as a mouse
to be found upon his premises ; w.hich he had
liecn at great cost to have made mouse-tight.
Each party was resolute. Theta.se was placed
in the hands of " eminent lawyers," and there
was every prospect of somebody having to pay
handsomely in addition to the value destroyed
by the mice. By great good luck the two
disputants encountered each other one day
on 'Change; and, happening to ri'latc the
m.itter with some bitterness to a third person,
tluy were n.ssurcd by him that, if they chose,
they could settle the affair in ten minutes
bi-tween themselves, by only taking a com-
mon-sense view of the case. He pointed out
to them the certainty that the direction in
which the mice-holes were gnawed would
cli'srly indicate whether the animals had
entered the boxes whilst lying on the wharf,
or whether tlicy had been imported in
them ; which might have occurred fVom the
boxes having been left open at the port of
sliii)ment after iwcking. The intruders could
nut have got in during the voyage ; for, ex-
<'i:{it in a few coasting vessels, mice are never
found, as they liave insuperable objections to
sea-sickness. The whole question was ; — did
• the mii-e eat their way into the boxes or did
they eat their way out of them ? If they were
Italian mice, packed in with the maccaroni,
wliicli had eaten their way through the case
for air, the holes would be gnawed and jagged
witliin, and smooth without; if they were
Enplish mice, with a taste for maccaroni
which deal boards could not baulk, the out-
side of the holes would bear the marks of
teeth, and the inside would be smooth. The
matter appeared so simple, when viewed ia
this light, that both parties agreed to adjust
their dispute by the appearanc« of the holes
in the cases. They did so with n ten minutn
of that time ; and not only saved hundreds of
pounds, but preserved their former friendly
feeling, which, had the law-suit gone on,
would no doubt have been completely at an
end.
A thousand similar instances could be ad-
duced to demonstrate the soundness of tin
views entertained by those who arc at the pre-
sent moment using their best exertions to pro-
mote the fonnation of Tribunals of Commerce
in this country. Commercial differences, and
many others of a similar character, cannot be
met by the common law of the land : they
require something more than a mere definition
of legal rights for their proper adjustment
Even were it always possible for lawyers to
conduct and decide upon such coses, the
delay involved ia frequently much more
damaging than the costliness of the pro-
ceedings : often indeed so ruinous that a
commercial man will prefer submitting to*
any amount of injustice rather than bg
involved in the delay, the vexations, and the
spoliation of a law-suit A case which was
heard and argued at no more remote period
than this last August is well worthy of a^
tcntion ; ina.smuch as it does something mora
than support the arguments, already Btnmg,
in favour of practical common sense tribowi
for practical common sense cases. It shon
how completely the most eminent men cf
science, the most accomplished student^ tke
deepest philosophers, may differ upon a peW
of practical chemistry or geology. The ttU
took place in Edinburgh, before the kri
president and a jury, as to whether a certiil
mineral substance found in certain lands ii
Scotland was or was not coal. It appeani
that the plaintiff had leased some land ti I
the defendant on certain terms of royal^, -
for the purpose of digging for eoaL Thi
latter had succeeded in turning up very laigi
quantities of a black inflammable subetanci
richly impregnated with hydrogenous pit
and, as such, very valuable for gas-work% >-
although not so suitable for ordinaiy AmL t
The speculation became, in consequence, na-
expectedly remunerative to the workers; and i
mortifying in proportion to the proprietor;
who, beholding the huge mine of w^Itk i
opened by others on his land, bronefat tb<
action to try whether — as the right ne W
leased away was solely and exclusively the
exploitation of coal — the substance dug vf
by the lessees was, or was not, coal ; for, if '
not coal, they had no right to it The '
plaintiff, therefore, by his counsel maintained
that the mineral worked by the defendaat i
was not coal ; and, although he was not ptc- '
pared to say what it really was in ordinaiy |
language, ho called a legion of professon of |
I
TRIBUNALS OP COMMERCE.
lot
gcoloiry and mincrslogy, of mJcroscopists »nd
miners, to declare that it was shale, clay,
bUuminoua earth — anything in fart but roal.
A geologist took hU hammer, and aTcrrcd
on his reputation as a professor, thnt if had
no appearnnce of coal. The chemist took his
crucible ariil his blow-pipe, and lie too insisted,
on tlif word of ft philosopher, that it did not
burn like coal, and did not leave the a.nhes of
coal. Tliu niii'poiscopi.st applied n powerful
lens, and ^ad no sort of hesitation in nvowinj;
tlic ab.ecnco of all traces of thoso cellular and
Tcgelabic tissues which existed in fill cosl ;
conwquontly, it could not be coal. The
miner declared that hf< had never Been any
coal similar to that worked by the defendant,
and tliat, therefore (mo<le8t man) it was
absard to call it coal.
So much for the science of the plaintiff.
Tlie defendant had a still larjjer array of
philosophy on his side ; and a host of men,
equally known in the scientific world, did
declare, on their reputations as peologistf,
chemist?, and microscopisL"?, that the .sub-
Btancc in di.«pute had all the chamcteri.Htic!*
necessary lo make it coal ; that in short it was
moKt decidedly, unequivocally', and beyond
diii'putc coal, and nothing bnt conl.
The array of evidence prewnts a curious
illtistrntinn of the fallacies of wience in the
ninilrenih century, and is qnite worth
quoting. Professor A. declared tluit it burnt
pncifjely like coal : Professor H. protested in
plain Knj;li»ih that it did not ProffS.sor A.
Slated ibiit he found it to contain only six per
Cent, of fixed cnrlioo: Professor R. had found
ten per cent, of carbon in it ; while Profe.ssor
C met with sixty-five per cent, of carbon.
Profeswor A. st.Tted that the minond was a
bitiinunoHs shale : I*rofes8or B. asserted that
it contained the merest trnce of bitumen.
Theirdnel btin? over. Professor C. fmmd thnt
no degree of heat would cau,<e it to yield
bitoinen. Professors A., B., C, and !>,, dc-
c1*r>?d poKitivdy in fnll chorus that it pos-
I»esi«etl no signs of an orpanic stnirture. On
the other side. Professors E., F., G., and
H., avowed much more positively, that it
had n miwt unrni.'<takeablt vegetable orpin-
isati'in, with pt-rfect traces of woody fibre,
cellular tiHsuo. and every other character-
istic of the best Wall's End. Profes.sor i.
found liiat it bad no fixed carbonaceous base,
but its hsKc was earthy matter : Professor K.
discovered on the contrarv that the liase wa^i
dcnde<lly carbonaceous, with very slight traces
of earth. Professor I. could obtain nothing
like coke from it, and he had tried very bant
too ; whilst Professor K., with scarcely an
ell'ort, ha«l obtained forty-one per cent of coke
from it!
Now, I take it, that there is no need of an
acquaintance with chemistry or geology — no
ncref»ily for fallioming the constituents of
bitiirninoiiit shales, earbonacenns bases, cel-
lular tissues, Ac, to arrive at a due apprecia-
tion of the absurd and anomalojs position
in which science w«a here placed. The evi-
dence of a Newcastle coal viewer adduced
before a properly conslituted Tribunal of
Commerce would have settled the case in live
minutes.
Setting these considerations aside, we arrive
at a powerful argument for the establish-
ment of tribunals ; which, by a mere ell'oK
of common sen-W and common jii.sfice, will
save the pockets of disputant.^, the time of
public officials, and moreover save men of
science from hunu'liatiog exhibitions. The
coal case was given in favour of the defendant
and les-sce; and, .so far, justice was doubtless
served, for according to a straiphll'orward
and honest interpretation of words, a black
infiamniable substance dug out of the earth
which gives forth intlnmmnhle gas, rcmnin.s
coal, until a new f^iecial word be given to it;
and even then it niiisf nnd will nlwity.s belongto
the (^cnus Coal. Hnd the di.cpute been brought
before a coinnxpciitl Iribiinnl the technicalrliea
of science would (mt li.ive been called to thotf
aid — they wo4ild have contented them.selves
with an examination of the true puruo)-t of
the lease by which the defendant held the
mines, and whether the nn'neral in questian
was or was not what is popularly nnd genc-
rnlly known amongst business nicn ns a coal,
without reference to any scientific distinctionA
or legal quiddities.
The agitation in favour of " Tribunals"
was commenced in the City of London
about two years since. It has gone on with
.some degree of success; although far from
sharing that countenance which it richly
descrve.s. There are conflicting interests at
work. Strong prejudices and legal opposition
have hitherto stood in the way. Thanks,
however, to the zeal and public t.pirit of
one man, the tide of public opinion has
begnn to set in favotu- of the movement.
The adhesion of nearly nil the Chnmbcrs
of Commerce Ihroiighout the pKivjnies
testify how keenly nun of busines.s fcti! the
incubus of the law in their linily opera-
tions, and the result of strong oonvi.tiuns on
the subject has been the ado|.tion of pe-
titions lo both Houses of Parliament praying
that a committee may be appointed for
the purpose of inquiring into this most im-
port.int subject with a view to legislating
thereon.
Such a committee would n.s.suredly bn'ng
to light some curious and forcible testimony
in favour of what is now asked, and there is
no rea.son why Tribunals of Commerce may
not be a» readily formed in this country as
vlsewhere. The m.ichiTiery ninr be so simple,
the expense so trifling, that it is difficult to
conceive any real objections to their formation.
A council of merchants, bankers, and others
accessible to the trading and miinuractiiring
community nt all times nnd in the sjieediest
ntanner, would undoirbtcfily prove » welcomo
boon. Tho suggc.*;tion ofa sti|iendiary judge
with a sound legal education and training,
104
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[CMtatMIr
instead of a purely commercial president may
be well worth consideration. The legal cle-
ment would perhaps be an essential ingredient
in such a Court Our complaint is, that it
at present overrides and swamps every other
good clement Sagacity in seizing the corns
of evidence and separating it in an instant
from the husk ; skill in combining scattered
points of testimony; acutencss in detecting
discrepancies, and in harmonising varieties
of evidence seemingly discordant but really
in unison, arc only to bo found in a "legal
mind."
BUCHAREST.
The name of Bucharest has of late become
familiar in our mouths, and meets our eye in
the comer of every newspaper. Political
writers, and geographers call it a caoital,
and it certainly is the chief place, the seat of
Government of the province of Wallachis.
But it does not rise to our notions of a
capital ; being in reality nothing but a huge
villa<;c scattered upon a plain on both sides
the Uimbowitza at about thirty-seven miles
of direct distance from the confluence of that
river with the Danube ; and two hundred and
eighty miles west-north-west of Constanti-
nople. The space it covers is enormous;
and, when seen from a distance, it suggests
ideas of prosperity — even of splendour. This
is the case with most Oriental cities. They
dazzle from afar; but, as you approach, their
beauty vanishes; just as, in tho mirage,
imaginary forests, lakes, and islands dwindle,
on near inspection, into tufls of sunburnt
gras-s.
If you wish to have the pleasure of con-
trast, yon must approach Bucharest from tho
north, and come suddenly to tho edge of
the eminence where stands the principal
church, sometimes called the Cathedral. Tho
whole extent of the city is visible from this
vantage ground, and three hundred and sixty-
five steeples, seeming architectural in the
distance, shoot up and fla.sh above tho houses
and gnnlcns. Let the time be the bright
beginning of spring. The sky overhead has
not a speck ; except that here and there may
be seen, slowly soaring, some hundreds of
those huge vultures which serve as tho
s(-»yciigi-rs of Eastern cities. The scene is
one of exquisite beauty. The houses cluster
far down on the banks of the river, nowhere
unaccompanied by trees, and then scatter
away on either hand, seemingly without
lines; for whei-e they appear to end, and tho
forest to begin, there may always bo dis-
covered other roofs and other white walls
pUaniing amidst the foliage. On the plain to
the ri^lit several intensely green oval expanses
are stmrply defined. These are marshes on
th« cd^ert of which the Zigans or gipsies
dig in search of tortoises, wliich they bring
to the market to sell. To tho east, the
country is covered as far as the eye can reach
with vast forests of larch, pine, and oak treei.
Beyond the city the yellow fields of maize nl
sharply off from verdant pasturages, or are
intersected by streaks of ground covered with
reeds and patches of brushwood. Altogether
the impression is produced, especially on one
who has just traversed the rugged defiles of
the Krappack Mountains, that this is an
opulent city — a city of merchants and monk^
such as one has read or dreamed oL
Enter. Its grandeur is not OTcrwhclming'.
You come up to a hedge of prickly arti>
chokes, which some German topographiata
— fresh from descriptions of Choczin — have
called the lines of Bucharest; and a single
great beam is, or was (for this refers to
ante-Russian times) drawn up by a pulley
to admit you. Beyond, you find a semi-
circular little place bordered by huts, with
a few trees scattered here and there. A.
vague idea suggests itself to the European
traveller that this is the spot where the
maidens of the neighbourhood come out to
dance when daily work is done. But he is
soon undeceived; for his waggon at once
sinks axle-deep into black mud, and his horses
or oxen hegin to splash and struggle ineffec-
tually. What may be the social reasons why
every entrance of Bucharest is stopped up by
a bog wo do not exactly know. Some say it
is for tho convenience of the custom-houso
officers; who, if they happen to be asleep^
are certain that no travellers can go
stealthily in our out Afler a nap they aie
sure to find half-a-dozen waggons slidciiy -
fast in the mud, from which they cannot be |
extricated except by several additional beeiti '
brought for that purpose. It is true tkt '
in the hot season this mud is changed iak '
grey dust, and is consequently more easy ti
cross ; but there is no travelling at that tiH ■
of year. Wo must ob.serve that both thi ''
custom-hou-se officers and the poUcc, who is-
variably accompany them, at Bucharest, i^
though inquisitive, arc generally polite, aoj ^
when they commit extortion, do it in > ,
gentlemanly manner, that proves them to
have received the influence of French civili- |
sation.
Nothing can be more trivial than the pr»-
vailing style of architecture in Bucharest i
native will tell you tliat it is not worth whDi
to buUd fine houses, because oarthqaakd
would probably shake them down ; otherwise^
he adds, London and Paris would be left ftr
behind. There is a great deal of good hu-
moured provincial pride in theso ezcclkot
Wallachians. The houses are all, or neailf
all, of one story, generally standing sepantt '■
and are surrounded sometimes by gardens; ]
sometimes by expanses of rough ground :|
The materials arc bricks and wood rougUf
whitewashed, which has an unpleasant effect ',
in summer. The glare they occasion acoountl m
for the fact that the people always go aboot
with their eyes puckered up as if they had
just laid aside spectacles. Here and then ii«
tnean-look'mg churches; something in the
Byzutilinc btyle, each with two, Ihrei', or even
four stcLplcs, ill which the eastern traveller
iui*ses the clegaucc of the miniirot. The
Lelk arc not hung in these steeples, but uywn
a ctoss-pole supported \>y two uprights in
front of the door, no that on church going
days, which frequently occur, a couple of
moustachioed ringers dressed in sheep-skin
amy be seen dangling from the rope, and at
uiistknce may be supposed to be undergoing
me eilreme sentcuco of the law. There
are nearly a hundred churches, hut not one
coutsias anything worthy of description,
except, perhaps, tliut on the eminence to lh«
nortli of tbe town. It was founded by Saint
Spiridion, bishop of Erivan, iu Armenia, and
like all Greek churches, has the form of a
cross. At tirst sight it resembles a fortress,
and is in fact so built thai it could serve for
that pur[>ose. The interior is decorated with
paintings which are no doubt admired — in
Uucharcst-, and there is a balustrade around
the sanctuary, riclily gilt and covered with
mouldings iiud arabesques, executed with
some ta«te.
Of iatc years, especially since the great Ore,
there havu been built a good many houses,
which are called pakces. At a little dis-
tance they appear not inelegant, being sur-
rounded by colonnades or fronted with
porticos; yet the pillars arc nothing but
IcQgtlis of piuo trees covered with stucco,
llcre and there attcinpta at a frieze with
plasler-of-Paiis bas-reliefs peep out. Within,
tliero are tolerably tioo apartments lUtcd up
curiously, half in the French and lialf in tbe
Eastern siylc, with arni-chairs and divans,
tables and .-.uudl carpets to sit upon, books of
cnrii-atiires and long pipes. In tlie same room
ruay soiiielimes be seen a lady dressed from
the Urst 'iliops iu the Chausi e d'Antin and
her husband, a wealthy Boyard (landed pro-
prietorj with n lung beard, clothed iu a
•J|»ft«n.
' Let us not yet, however, seek the shelter
of a roof. Wc luvc something more to say
about Uie streets, which are of various degrees
of v< ikllh ; sometimes diminishing to mere
alley* an<l bijiuetimes spreading as broad as
I'orlliinil Place. A few are paved roughly
vith slohe^ placed, or rather thrown care-
lessly upou the ground. It would have been
better had tlie people of Bucharest stuck to
their wooden pavements, for as it is, their
best streets sometimes resemble the bed of a
mountain torrent Tbe namo for streets
is jtoiiti (bri(lj;es); which, when laid with
transverse log^ of wood, they retilly are. But
now nt certain seasons they are channels
without bridges. At various places re-
gularly every spring when the snow mtlts,
the eiirth givis way and sinks into great
lioK'4, vthich the peoplv are compelled to lill
up with straw and laggots. It never seems
to have occurred to anyone that a fouiuk-
tlon was ruqutrcd for tho paviug-stoues.
The older streets are still covered with long
beams of wood placed crosswise, under which
water and mud collect undisturbed. They
are not fastened with any pretence of care;
and, when a carnage passes on one side of a
street, it sometimes weighs down the end ofa
plank and casL'i the uiifortunato pas.senger
who may happen to be at the other end
into the air. The people near him begin to
JAUgh; but, when the plank goc-s down,
a splash of black mud covers them from
head to foot and chan;;es their merriment
into rage and disgust In winter, a depth of
three or four feet of snow paves the street
It is rapidly trod into a hard mass, mixed
with stones and dirt Then they appear clean
and smooth and the sledges go whirling to and
fro. But spring comes on and when the thaw
commences, neither horse nor man can pro-
ceed. Hundreds of galley-slaves arc turned
out uudcr taak-uiasters armed with whips,
to clear away the snow which rapidly de-
generates into nmd. Instead of removing
it outside the town they pile it against the
walls of the houses, wliicli are therefore in
some places half concealed by heaps of dirt,
consisting of the sediment which has been
left after the snow has melted. The streets
ore converted then into so many slimy
kennels.
The bazaars of Bucharest are not interesting
or well supplied. A few shops of semi-
European apptaranco contain nnicles of
French manufacture, but they are flanked hy
stalls in the native style; that is to sny, re-
cesses with great shutters that open upwards
to form a projecting roof during the diiy-lime
A.S usual, in the E."e5t, each trade has a little
street to itself. There is, for example, the
street of tho Leipsikani or traders from
Leipsic; the street nf tliu iiifiney-chnngerB;
the street of the fiddlers, niid above all the
street of tlio Kofetars or svvectnK'at-Jealers
In some quartens the streets are bordered
by lofty wooden palings, behind which tho
huts are concealed. It is here that strangera
go to see the dances of the Zigans in per-
fection.
But we must not forget the Po-de
Mogoclioya. This is the principal promenade
of Bucharest It crosses the town nearly
from one en<] to the other, with a mean
breadth of thirty feet Here in the afternoon,
or hither in tho evening — for the hour
becomes more fashionable as it grows later —
may be seen a very curious spectacle. The
Boj-ards are out to take tho air; every one
in hLs enrringc, his droski, his sledge, or his
tandi'Tn. They do not move gently ali)nc, hut
take that opportunity to show tlie mottle of
their horses. It seems to be one of tlu-ir ob-
jecU to drive all pedestrians out of the street:
fis for their aci-oiiimodiUion no foot pave-
ment exiMls. The ground is almost always
covered with mud and pools of wntiT. About
four o'clock some impatient Wallachian liandy
comes dashing down. Iminediatcly <\uiut
I
I
I
v
106
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
people, who cannot afford a vehicle, begin to
disappear. Those who arc obstinate pn.>pare to
take refuge on the mounds that exteiul along
the walls of the houses. The precaution is
in vain, for the mud splashes up to the roofs
,on cither hand, and prudent housewives shut
tlic'ir windows. Presently another j-oung
Koyanl whirls into the street. By tacit con-
sent a race is at once begun. A tiiird com-
petitor appears. Then a fourth. At length
dozens, hundreds, of various kinds of vehicles
join in ; all moving at terrific speed, back-
wavd and forward, as if they were running des-
perate races for enoniious stakes. Some may
(lr«)p oir, but others come to increase the whirl
and confusion, and the hurry-skurry continues
until long after the crazy lanterns are lighted,
Tliis is the best time to see the Po-de-Slogo-
choya in, what the fashionables of Bucharest
are pleased to call its glory. From the roof
of the hotel, kept by M. Louzzo, this thorough-
fare resembles a vast trench, at the bottom of
which lights are flashing to and fro with
immense rapidity. Besides the trampling of
the high stepping horses, and the rattling
of the wheels, there rises on the air a con-
tinued shout; for the coachmen, getting ex-
cited in tlieir work, urge on their horses
with half-savage cries, or jeer one another ;
whilst their masters occasionally put their
heads out of window and roar a salutation
to .<;ome passing acquaintance. Accidents
rarely occur, which seems a miracle. At
ii!)0ut nine o'clock every one goes home to
corFi-e and whist, and the streets are entirely
de.-'erted, save by a band of some fifty police-
men, who patrol in various directions, and
by some hundreds of private watchmen,
called, from the cry they use, Quini Aejlo
(who goes there ?).
It must be admitted that Bucharest is
rapidly improving. In a few years our
flfscription will no longer apply ; that is to
say, if the development of civilisation bo
not checked by the continued presence of
a foreign army, and the interference of rival
despotisms. It would not be doing justice to
the W.illachians if we omitted to mention,
that all the classes which are acc«ssiblu by
position to education, have been, for some
years p.i8t, animated by an extreme desire of
iin|irovement Two distinct influences are at
work : that of Russia, which is accepted by
neoi'ssily ; and that of Franco, which is chosen
from taste. The Wallachian ladies, cspc-
ri;illy, im])ort their ideas and their bonnets
from I'atis, and we have known some whose
eleiriitKC and refinement, both of manners
and of mind, could not be surpas.sed in
n« ];;r:ivin, or the Faubourg St Germain.
They have besides a certain simplicity
of character that exhibits itself now and
then in charming simplicities that only
render them more fascinating. The fault
into which they are most liable to fall, is
afTectation. They arc sometimes a.shamcd
of the very quality that gives the charm
to their character, and escape into extra-
vagance to avoid what they fear may be called
rusticity.
It is not long since the people of Wallachia,
nobles and peasants, were amongst the rudest
and most uncouth people in Europe. Nearly
all their improvement dates from this centuiy.
Fifty years ago, the children of the richnt
Boyards were brought up in alnaost a wild
state, in company with the servants and slaves
of the house; who were for the most part
Zigans, who took pleasure in teaching them
their own vices. The little instruction that
existed, comprised a knowledge of t)ie Greek
language, which was made fashionable bj the
Court of the Zanariate Hospodars. A kaloyer,
procured from some convent for the purpose,
became part of the family, and whilst teaching
his language, contrived to infiltrate a few
notions principally on theological subjcctL
Some stiff old Boyards resisted this Hellenic
influence ; but as a general nile, all the uppet
classes spoke Greek, In the last ccntuiy the
services of the church were celebrated in the
Sclavonic language, which neither the cleiCT
nor the people understood; but nfterwanfa
they were translated into 'Wallachian or
modem Greek. At present, the French lan-
guage has been very generally introduced, and
iit is rare to find a respectable person who
cannot speak it In most houses there is
a library of French literature, and it a
worth observing that the Belgian piraciei
are looked upon with distrust and ea»-
tempt: every one prides himself on iuawg
the best Paris edition. Since, indeed, the
final emergence of Wnllachia into the ftti ,
independence in the year eighteen huadM i|
and thirty-four, praise-worthy efforts hiw
been made, especially in Bucharest, to Bapflf
all classes with means of education.
We cannot say, however, that as a genori
rule the cla.ss of Boyards is very fcr rf
vanced. To undcrstind their real state ail
position, the knowledge of a few detili
is nece&sari'. As in many countries (^tk
east, the population of AVallachia is pnfr
tically divided into four distinct castes, Al
limits of which are divided by social and pot
tical, not reliprious prejudices. Above di
Zigans come the peasants ; and then the nw
chants and the Boyards. This last word ma*
a fighting man or warrior, and is now usedilt
title. Those who bear it are all landed propn-
etors, and indeed nearly the "vh .ie Xiu.joyii
divided between them ana iho reli<rious «»• 1
gregations. In old times, they lived scattcrri ',
through the whole province on their estatei
like our feudal barons; but they now coo'
gregate in the capital and have the chaigeot
their i)roperty to stewards. When we spitk
of the influence of foreijm civilisation «■
AVallachian ."ociety, we allude to this fOB-
gregation of more or less wealthy land-
owners whose means and position alk*
them to indulge in luxury and to coltifiti
refinement
OarlM OukaiAl
BUCHAREST.
lOT
A grcttt many Bojarda have now throtm
•side tlio old kaftan and adopted our in-
elegant costume. A Uuoharest dandy is
WTctclicd if not well supplied with patent
leather lioots and line kid glovts. He has
also an exnjrgcratcd fondness for cye-f;la>iscs
and spoctfiolcs ; watch-chains, rings, and every-
thing in fact that he supposes to he the out-
ward sip;n of civilisation. As in the case of
the Li'varitinea wlio ape European manners,
the young Wallachi-in.s Pometiinos full into
the mislaktf ofs^upposin^ that there cannot be
too inucli of a good thing, so that their
toilette is often Overdone. In (iict a great
portion of their faculties arc expended in
bringing their appearance into agreement
with (tome ideal pattern of elegance, that
is to say, some French exquisite fresh from
the Boulfcvanls dcs Italiens, who has passed
that way in search of emotions. The satirical
say that it became the fashion in Bucha-
rest to yawn, because a certain dandy
C'onnt, attached to the French ronsulato,
was addicted to that habit. IJowever. we
mu;!t ha.stcn to remind the reader that it
is not necessary (o go to the banks of the
Dimbawjtza for empty-headed dandies ; and
to add that there exists in Wallachia, a
n'lclcu.s of intelligent, well-educated, and
high-sfiirjted young men, who will probably
at some future time exercise a great and
decisive influence on the foriuiUMJ of their
country. Let them not be offended at our
good-humoured notice of the absurdities of
soin'-> amonprst them— for, in common with
thciiisinds of Englishmen, wc have felt for the
suH'.rin^ of tlioir country, and earnestly wish
thcni better limes.
We h»»e already noticed the recent in-
troduction of European ideas. There was
tiiucii to reform. Within this century there
li:»*e been committed acts in that country
which rival all the horrors that have been
related of more eastern parallel. The princes
were cruel to the Boyards, the Boyards to
the peasants. In eij;htcen hundred an<l two
a man's feet were cut oti' for irreligion ; and
in eighteen hundred and twenty-one un-
inenlionable horrors were perpetrated. Fre-
quently, up to a very recent period, the
Boyards u.tcd to exercise, with itrLiitrary
fi-rm-ity, the ri^ht of life and death over their
»:rb and slaves. The punishments in u;je,
lioth atnang.st them and the agents of autho-
rity, were htninge and barbarous. One of
the principal was the deprivation of sleep,
which is now often applied in other countries
of th? E.ist, espeeiuDf Egypt. The patient is
force I to remain ujtright by blows, and some-
times by wound.s, until he dropa from sheer
CJihaustion.
These are disagreeable subjects. Let us
run away from them into the country. There
is a plai-e called Ii.'tnia£<a, about a league
from Bucharest, where ladies and gctitlo-
Btten go in line weather to breathe the fresh
air ami cnjuy (he rerilare of the fields, the
perfume of the shrubs and flowers, and the
pleasant shade of the trees. The wood is
a succession of arcade?, in which you some-
times meet a pcas4iijt dressed in his .sheep-
skin tunic ; sometimes a pretty woman dang-
ling her parasol in her hand and listening
to the soft things which a dnndy in plaid
pantaloons is whispering into her ear. The
only objection to this otherwise charming
spot is that it is too artificial. It is the
Richmond or the St. Cloud of Bucharest, and
contrasts curiously with the va.st larch-woods
beyond. There in reality can be admired
the l»eautics of nature ; and wc wouM advise
all those who are a little disappointed with
the well-regulated beauties of Baniassa to
pu.sh on over the semi-cultivnted plain
towards the confines of the hill-covered
forests.
Besides, they may meet with n little adven-
ture like that which once occurred to a gentle-
m.in, who wad going in the country, but
who learned more in one night alwut its
manners than, if unfavoured by accident, he
might have done in a month. lie had
proceeded about a couple of miles from Bani-
a.ssa, when suddenly there cjimca burst of
mingled screams and laughter from a grove
near at hand ; and, whilst he was consicjcring
what this might import, there rushed forth A
crowd of youths and maidens pursued by an-
other crowd, some armed with thongs, oth'-ra
with rod-s both of which were used witli good
effect. Our traveller checked his horse and
looked on in amazement, fancying himself
sudilenly transported back into the times of
the Monades and B.icchanti. The girls had
their black hair floating wildly over their
shoulder?, and were dressed .simply in a sort
of polka bordered with fur that reached only
to their knees. They wore leather siuululs,
and .IS they ran the strings of lieads and orna-
ments of metal on their necks, arms, and
ankles jingled loudly. At first the spec-
ffltor imagined that this w£ts mere sport;
hut a maiden who passed right before his
horse's heail received such a lash from a
vignrnus pursuer that she turned round with
tears in her eyes and an imprecation on her
lips.
The triiveller thought hi.'? path had been
crossed by the inmates of a madhouse ; and
when the last of the group had di.sappeared
in the distance, proceeded on his visit to the
forest .\ little way on he came up with a
man w.illiiu'^ briskly along;; he recognised in
him the servant nf one of his H-icnds, and re-
mcmbprcd that he could speak French. He
asked for an exi>liiiiat.ion of what ho had
seen.
"That," said the man. "is the marriage of
my cousin. They have begun the ccrcmonj
rather early, so that I miss my share."
Mr. Smith (the wayfarer) was piizzleii
rie had travelled in many cminlrieii, but had
never seen the nuptial benediction adminis-
tered at the end of a thong. Bein^ oC *
I
i
i08
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[Qaa*B
L
mythological turn of mind, bo tried for an
allegorical explanation, but could make no-
thing of it Ho was quite convinced of one
thing, bowcTcr; that the girl who had re-
ceived a lash under his eyes would carry
the mark to her grave. Shame pre-
vented him at first ifom frankly pursuing
his inquiries. He did not like to show
his ignorance. However, he at last mus-
tered up courage to say, "Which was the
bride?"
The man, who had no conception that mar-
riages could bo celebrated in any other manner,
did not tako notice of the absurdity of this
question ; but went on to explain the whole
aflair. From his eloquent description it ap-
peared that as soon as the parents have con-
sented to the union of their daughter with a
young man who has asked for her hand,
a certain day near at hand is fixed. Long
engagements are unknown. There is no legal
contract, the blessing of the priest supplying
the place of everything. On the morning of the
eventful day four of the bride's female friends
come early, and dress her out for the ceremony.
A tightly-fitting jacket, or polka, is first put
on, often, y^/t are sorry to say, without any of
those intermediates, known under the generic
name of linen. Over this is thrown a loose
woollen tunic that entirely conceals the form ;
M-hilst an impenetrable veil, is wrapped round
the head. The chief feature of the bridal cos-
tume, however, is a heavy crown of tall black
feathers pUccd upon the head, resembling
the plumes of a hearse. Thus accoutred, the
bridesmaids take the hand of the bride, and
lead her slowly like a victim to the altar. On
the way the procession, which is often very
numerous stops from time to time, for her
to distribute alms to the poor. At the door
of the church she shakes off her companions;
and it is a point of etiquette that she should
walk, as Mr. Smith's informant expressed
it, in the attitude of a saint, to the seat pre-
Eared for her near the altar. Here the
ridegroom meets her; a few prayers are
read, their forefingers are hooked and
joined during the pronunciation of the
blessing, they kiss the back of the Papa's
hand, and are told that they are man and
wife.
Once escaped from the church a scene of
confusion ensues. The bridegroom takes his
bride by the hand, and runs back with her
towardshis bouse, pursued by her parents, and
friend.*, who pretend to try and overtake
tliom. Not succeeding, and not desiring to
succeed, they turn upon the relations of the
bridegroom, and revenge upon them the loss
tlioy have suffered by blows and stripes.
Sometimes this nngular retaliation is inflicted
in the evening, during the supper, by the
father and mother of the new wife; but
oftcncr it becomes a romp among the young
people, who tako this opportunity to revenge
themselves with impunity for any indignity
they may liavo suffered. Probably the
maiden, whose sufferings Mr. Smith deplored,
had atrociously jilted her pursuer, and de-
served her punishment Resistance, let oa
add, is forbidden ; but immunity may bo par-
chased by a jar of sulphured wine or a joadc
of arakee.
Mr. Smith arrived at the village, situated
on the skirts of the forest, just as a couple of
szigoms, armed with fiddles, were beginning
to strike up a merry tune. Instead of pro-
ceeding at once to the country house of
Prince Plikza, where ho was to pass the niefat,
he determined to alight and look on. At mut,
indeed, he had some intention of asking the
young lady whose whipping he had witnessed
to dance a quadrille with him ; and it would
have been amusing to see our stiff, countij-
man, with a shirt^ollar sticking halfway up
to his eyes — for we Englishmen adhere to this
national feature in costume whcreyer we go
as religiously as the Chinese do to their taDa
— ^bobbing up and down by the side of a lithe
maiden, agile as a fawn. A tight jadcet
trimmed with fur served to display the sym-
metry of her figure. But it was not a qua-
drille that was danced; and Mr. Smith,
being an indifferent waltzer and not com-
prehending the mazes of the other dancc^
felt quite unable to shine in that sort d
exhibition.
Ho was told that neither among the
szigoms nor the peasants is the marriage tit
very much respected. Tho morals m the
country are certainly relaxed. Better thiMl
might be expected, be thought, of the B(mv£;
but an hour's conversation that CTentng at
supper enlightened him. We are aonjto
confirm his testimony. Russian conH^
nication has corrupted good manners. At
story of Bcppo was not very long ago nnNiri
here under peculiar circumstances. Ahuabol
went away from his young wife for a jrac
On his return he found her married aak
She had procured by somo means a If^
separation during his absence. He exp*
tulated, and brought the matter befora lb
law courts. Grave judges pondered oa fti
case, a verdict was given for the wife, ui
the plaintiff-husband was non-suited fA
costs!
STARLIGHT IN THE GARDEN.
Tm Garden (bv itH Ivied walls ineloned)
Beneath the witchin); of the nifrht remun*
All tranced and brcathlesx; and, in dreams repoM^^
Tho white-walled bouKe, with blinded windv^
panes,
GMmmers fh>m far like one vast pearl between
The clasterlng of it* dark and ibndowy greaa.
A night in Jnno ; ond yet 'tia scarcely nighti
Hilt mthor a fiunt dnsk — a languid day,
Slpcpine in heaven — the interfluent Iij;ht
Ot Even and Momin^r, met npoii one way;
And, nil about the watohful »Vy, a bloom
Of silver Btar-flowera fills the soft blue rIooib.
OwlM ndiraa.]
I g un
^^BcDM And ndnrnn* HnnlifA^, like a ffhost,
^^P'a-se** till •
^^■bu fcriu!'-]! irrv h04t;
^^V T^e trt.'va 1" isc^ions skr ;
I 'Thv flowom, iiuiiliuruU Ui kluvp, uud dew, jisd
bulin,
lliolJiii^ at tlieir hutU an Influito calm.
»en the old hricTc wall — that with the ann
Of many ^. ■iicd like a fruit,
I streak* oi io\r, red, and dan,
With brui.U ,, . „ . i iicl>cn«, that strike root
Tn arid flssiire*— weum a face of rent,
Like oti« who bli«»e» nil thiaj;s, and ia bleat.
hi" empty vaaea on tho terrnec-walk,
■ The fiath-wftj-» win^iinif nndcmuith the tree*.
Tlie moon-whiie fouutuina that aya atir and tolK,
The ivy's dark and munniirlnif mjr»t«rio9,
ad all th* pale and qnict statue.t. *v«m
lif ahroudod in eomo bright and fllmjr dream.
litre is a soul to-ni^ht in evoryxhinif
Within tliis "anlen, old, and trreen, and atill:
'■■•-•' the Stars, irith noixelcsa wioff.
. i about it, — and hit odours ml
11 .'h lil'tf ; bnt most of all the flowen,
lo^f hUui, like maidens lo endionted towers.
lie swoet breath of ftio flowers asccndn tlio air,
And perfume* all the starry piiIiHX'-iJatfs,
limbing tl') v.-iiifi.- I I..' r.'.'in IMrr- n i.hiyor :
Huquicl!- ne'trates
tKiWM the and piirtt
lliw»y, and :... l^.:..; . ...... ^...icn heurt».
•' Oh, bright aky-people !" aay the flower.<, " we
" know
Thnt wc miut poM and rnni»]i tiko ■ brcatli
Pheni"'—" '' ' -I '•"■ »■ "ts altaJI bid o«go;
[And ' iih nu Klia<i« of dcat)],
kt flu ! stream of years,
Cucid an'l miiuuiij, wticre never ead'appiuus.
THE GREAT SADDLEWORTH EXniBITION.
t09
'V
-• •'--'^ ' V -'itl— weyeani
, and vre
.lied to bnm
a '-■( ye.
I ' 19 hiiet
• '1 • , ., . 1, Linterfuto!
" Out of the mTstcrr of the fbrtnlMs nlirht
Wc '. ■ ..: Jawn,
Atidf. ..l,t;
And . irawu
Like aitfli* iiilo tlie wide uir'i e)iit]>iue«« :
Vl-i aauifttintott of new life we drcaiu and ^ess.
" Millioiia of blo<*oma like oar>clvc», we feel,
Il/tre dn»hcd before auatcre Eternity,
And twined ul<ont the yenrV fact running wheel,
And dropped, and failed to the quiet sky.
W<i lire ludew in noon ; vet we aKpire,
Hoth-tike, towurda year white, etheriiJ Are."
And tho atars answer— " There la no true death ;
Wind veems to blight tho green earth like iv
cnr4e
t.« hnt n •hnde that briefly flnttereth,
God-t)irr>wa upon the fnminont nnivenie.
To liiiik the too great spleodour. Therefore,
flower*,
Your toula ahull ineense all the endloaa hoara.
" Wi'Wn th« lipht of oar onuettinB dny
V ■!■ witliiri-cl hlooniK xhall waken, and expand
^■ '"r iliiin n'lW when set in ctirlhly olay,
■t ri^iening tu iho j(ravo in which ye ataad.
Tlie lender ^hosta of faaci and odonra dead
Are •■ the ((rouud on which our nations trend."
At this, the flowers, as if in pleaaare atirr'd.
And a new Joy waa bom within the night:
The wind breathed low its one primeval word,
Like some nio^t nnciciit secret on ici flight ;
And Heaven, and £unh, and all things, soouied t«
kiss,
Love-lost in many mingling syropathiea.
THE GREAT SAPBLEWORTH
EXHIBITION.
Last week my friend. Miss Ciytemnestra
Stanley, asked mc to go with her and her
sister, Misg Cordelia, to the Saddleworth
Great Exhibition, and to have • day's holiday
upon the moors to gather bilberries. As
1 am rather proud of Miss Clytcmncstra'a
regard, I felt flattei^ by her invitation,
to say nothing; of wishing to see the Exhi-
bition, of which I had heard wonders.
One fine day last week we sta^t^d early,
to have a long day before us. The rail-
way would hare taken us within half a
mile of the place, but we preferred going
in our own conveyance— -a light butcher's
cart, drawn by a mare of many virtues,
but considerably more spirit than was de-
sirable.
Ciytemnestra and her two sisters are
dealers in fish and pame; fine high-spirited
women, who live by themselves, and scorn to
have tho shadow of a man near them. They
liave lived together for years. Miss Cordelia
waa taught to groom Uie mare and stablo it
down when she was so little that she liad lo
stand upon a stool to reach its neck. She is
grown a fine toll young woman now, and
nobody to look at her would su.spect that she
can not only groom her horse, but build a
stable with her own han<!s if need be. They
arc three very remarkable women, but they
would require an article all to themselves.
How they came to be christened such mag-
nificent names is a mystery I never waa
told.
Well, wo startofl with many injunctions
from the eldest sister to take care of our-
selves. Miss Addiu secmod to consider ua
as giddy young creatures who would be sure
to get into mischief— and she could not go
along with us, as she hud to attend to the
scaling of a fine cod and the boiling of a peck
of shrimps — after stuffing an armful of cloaks
into Uie cart behind us, and enquiring whether
we had recollected to take money enough, she
allowed us to depart, watching us all tlie way
down the street. Ciytemnestra drove. She
was accustomed to it
"The Saddloworth district," as it is called,
lies on tho confines of Yorkshire and Lan-
cashire. The high road runs along the edgo
of a deep valley, surrounded on all sides by
a lahyrinUi of bills, the ridizcs forming a
combination of perspective which pocras mor»
I
<
1
no
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
PoaJwIvd V;
i
like tho clouds at sunset, than things of solid
land. Above tho high road, along a steep
cmbankuicnt, is the railway, and the hills
rise steep on the other side of it The railway,
with the electric telegraph, the high road,
the canal, and the river, all run side by side
within the breadth of a hundred yards of each
other. The country is very thinly popu-
lated, and except when the mills arc loose,
there is an oppressive sense of loneliness. At
every turn the hills shut out tlic world more
and more, until it seems a wonder how we
ever got hero, or how we are ever to get out
The roa«l is not level for a yard together, and
every step brings us deeper amongst the
hills. It is an intensely manufacturing dis-
tri(.-t, the Streams from the hills making a
splendid water power. Magnificent cotton
mills, looking more like palaces than places
of industry, with beautiful villa-like resi-
dences at short distances from them, belong-
ins: to the proprietors, are to be seen in all
directions, in the vaoiit picturesque situa-
tions, and often in places where it would
seem impossible for ft mill to stand. These
mills, as well as the residences, are built of
white stone, and are five or six stories high,
with tall spire-like chimneys ; they are all
full of costly machinery. Glu.ster8 of grey
stone cottages for the work-people are scat-
tered alK>ut; hut neither the mills nor
>>H' cottages seem to take up any room, nor
<1i> they break the loneliness and silence of
the scene. Tho amount of capital in-
ve-^ed within a compass of six miles round
Ashtoi) and Stayley Bridge is something
wonderful.
We passed through tho village of Mossley,
wl.jih seems cut out of the rock, and is inha-
liited entirely by work-people — "hands" as
tli«y are called. One small village rejoices in
tiie name of " Down-at-the-bottom," another
is cnlled " Herod," consisting of scattere<l
houses, above otir head and below our feet.
The changing shadows on the hills and the
(leij) elenr purple mist that filled the valley,
(ii'l not hinder the view, but gave it a strangely
solemn aspect No human life or human
!m>tle seemed aV)le to assert itself— the silence
of nature swallowe<i it up. Our plan was to
fro to " Dills o' Jacks," about three miles from
f'aildleworth. dine there, and then walk across
til'- moor to the Exhibition.
fJrniliially all signs of human life disap-
I'ejired. and at^er asrending a steep hill,
<•* ryhimtring n precipice without any parapet
'.vn,l to keep ns from falling over, we
e;iirie ujon a wild tract of moorland, with
^ t •■li r rajrs toworinR high above our heads,
:'ii.| liM-e blocks of prov rock lying about,
liU>' mas'ses of the solidest masonry ovcr-
t >:v,xvi,; not a habitation in sight, only the
li: ■< shnttinsr us in more closely than ever.
I' look-,.,| the very spot where a murderer
im-ht tfike refuffo to hide himself. A sharp
f "in atiil a siiddi-n descent brousrht us to a
little wayside hsuse of entertainment lying
in a hollow under the high road, and not
to be seen before. This is Bills o' Jftcks,
a place of great resort, in spite of ita lone-
liness. Some years ago it was the scene
of a ghastly murder. An old man and bis
son lived there together. It was then, as
it is DOW, a wayside inn, and was their owe
pro])erty: it had been in their fiunily for
generations. The son was married, and had
two children, but he did not lire with his
wife, as he had a romantic attachment to his
father, and would not live away ironi him.
They kept no servant One day the son
went out to buy some flour and groceries.
Some acquaintance in the town asked him
to stay a while and rest He said, "No;
he had met some Irish tramps on his road,
going towards their house, and ho was afraid
the old man might bo put about with them
— he must make haste home to help him."
The next day people calling at the house
found the son lying just within thc'Moorway
with his head all beaten to pieces, and the
things he had brought home with him satu-
rated with blood. He had been killed, appa-
rently, as he entered. The old man was lying
dead upon the kitchen hearth, covered With
frightful wounds. The murderers have never
been heard of; and now, most likely, never
will be. The house still belongs to the same
family.
The first person we saw on our arrival wn
the widow of the son, now an old voama,
but erect and alert She was extrcmdj
kind and friendly ; but I &ncicd that ifcl
looked as if she had seen a horror vUch
had put a desperation between her and Ike '
rest of tho world. She lives with her MB
and his wife ; the son a handsome, aensibfe- 4
looking man, and his wife the very ideal of i '
comely matron — calm, kind, sensible, wift !"
mellow beauty ; she seemed to spread t T
motherly peace and comfort around htf. '
There was much bustle going on, for partid ;
of country holiday-makers were there ; bat j
nothing seemed to disturb her cidm hos- '
pitality. She was very fond of Clytemnestn
and her sisters, whom she had known ftr
years, so that our coming was hailed wiA
delight The best of everything was set
before us to eat, and though I could not
suppress a shudder at finding myself on fht
very spot where the old man had lain, y«t
as the kitchen looked bright and cheerfiJ, and
no traces of the tragedy were visible, I tried
not to think of it '
AdcT dinner, we set off over the hillnsidc^
which was in full bloom with the heather. ,
XnmWrs of children and country people whs
had come from many miles round were .
swarming amongst the rocks, picking bil-
berries for sale. It was a lovely day and a
lovely scene. As far as the eye could rwdi
there was not a habitation in sight ; a ^cp i
valley lay at our feet, and across it w«r«
the hills rising in long ridges, the breaks in
them disclosing further ridges of other hiDi
ebul«&Urea.1
THE GREAT SADDLEWTORTH BXIIIBITION,
111
beyond, and again bejond those, funning a
singular series of jtcrsipoctiTe Uislancea, over
wliich l)ie (li'pp blue shadows shifted and
rariud coiitinually. It was bard to believe that
such a tiling as a toim, or nny congregation
of human tiwcllings had tlicre an cxislvni.-e,
and it (vns certainly a most unh'kely locality
in which to eeck for an Ezbibitiom.
After dusci-'nding the hill, at the fbot of
the rock called "Pots and Pans," we saw
a little island of stone houses Iviii^ nu'.tv
before u^, in tl>e hollow of some hills, vihicn
rose in an amphitheatre above them. This
was the villngo of Sudillcworth ; and, after
a quarter of an hour's farther walking across
some rough fields, we h&>i reached the I'nd of
our journey. Saddkwortli is two s.tr:i;;gling
streets of shops and cottages; the ground
so ahrti(it f»iid irrcgulnr that the back door
of one house will be often on a IcVul with
the tup "itory of another. It is chiedy in-
babiteii t||-'tbe work-people of the ncipliboiir-
iiig mills. A mihvay st.ition ha.^ within the
laat few years, brought it into llie direct line
from M.-inchester to Leed.s.
ExHiniTiiLN, in great letters over a door,
told us wc were before the object of our
Bearcli, Asccndin;; a dark, narrow, wooden
fetaircasc, we paid onr shillin;;:.^ on the
topnioi^c step, and found ourselves standing
plump face to face with the wonders of the
place. I felt curious to see the sort of people
who would ho gathered in that out-of-the-
world sjwt. Thi.'y were not "mill-hands,"
but quite a different clasS ; people who, most
likely, luid doth looms of their own at home
— for in Yorkshire there is still very much of
this domestic manufactnrc going on. The
incn buy their yam, get it dyed for them,
and weave it up in their own houses. They
then take the web of cloth on their shoul-
ders, an<i either go with it about the country
to sell it, or else take it to the Cloth
Hall at Leeds or lluddersfleltl, and dispose
of it llierr on miirket-<Jay. There was some-
thing inijchiiig in the good-humoured stupid-
ity with which they looked upon the
objects they had never se«n before, and the
intelligent gn'cting they garc to whatever was
familiar.
Tlie Exhibition had no speciOc feature;
but, in tho rare and tasto with which the
rariou.s objects were arranged, it gave evi-
dence that those who had presided over
its getting up had not grudged troubte. The
articles had chiefly been contributed by
families connected with the district, who
must have di.«niantlcd their houses and
drawing-roi>nm of itomc of their most vnlii-
^le adornments ; and this gave a certain
apirit of good intention and kind hcarted-
ness to the whole a(&ir, which iras the
real chann of iL The object, 1 was told, is
to recruit the funds of the Mcch.inics' In-
stitute, which (as is no wonder) arc in a very
languishing state. The first room contained
several plaster casts and busts of every
species of phrenological development — groat
men, murderers, and criminals of every dcin-ee-
and there wjas also tho cast of that unhappy
youth with the enlarged head, who secuis to
h.'ivc been .sent to die of water on the brain for
the especial interest of science ; for hi.s etDgy is
to be seen either cast or engraved in all places
where the " human skull divine" is treated
of. ClytemncBtra was much attracted in this
room by tho bust of Sir Isaac Newton, and
the anatoniicid preparation of a horse's head ;
but tho real interest of the party was not
CKcited until wo entered a roon« where there
were some cases of stuffed binJs, not very
rare ones ; but such as may be seen in Eng-
land. Here tho little girl whom we had
brought with us from Bills o' Jacks, camo
bc.iming up with the exclamation that " she
foimd some real nioor-gamc in a gla.ss case,
and a fox, that looked as if he was alive I"
This sharp, bright little child of twelve
years old — who had lived on the moors all
her life, and had never been further from
homo than to Ashton, which to her scuined
a great metropolis — took no sort of interest in
the pictures, and bron«e.>!, and statuettes, and
other fino things, but greeted the objects she
knew, with a burst of enthusiasm, the only
novelty she seemed to caro about, w.as an
ostrich egg, which she spoke of just as the
people in the .\rabian Nights' spoke of tho
roc's egg. Clytemnestra — an excellent judge
of game — pulled me to come an<l look at some
lovely pUirmigans, and the most beaiitiful
grouse sho ever saw. Certainly they wero
excellently well preserved and stuffed ; but
amongst so many novelties I did not expect
they would have attracted one who 8c«« grouse
professionally every day of the season : I
suppose it was like recognising the face of a
friend in a strange place.
One room was filU'd with electrical and
philos4'iphical apparatus. A crowd of people
were looking at them as if they had been
implements of sorcery ; whilst one, a pla-
cid, gixxl-nntiired countryman was prepar-
ing to be "electrified ;" his "missu.s" sitting
by with an air that seemed to say he de-
served whatever he might be bringing on
himself
fn tho machinery -room there were a few
beautiful models : a knitting-machine in full
force, which turned out beautifully knitted
grey stockings : and a sewing-machine, which
was even a greater innovation than tho other.
Thi.'? appeared to bo an attractive room.
There were Sfvme tolerable pictures, which the
people admired when the suhje<;ts were things
they understood or hail seen before — whatever
was absohitely new, nobody appeared to care
about. A hall was fitted up \.ith curious
old furniture, carved cabinets, old armour,
tapestry, Ac. — all arranged in a very tasteful
manner — whilst an organ or .scmphine, which
was constantly played, made this the centre
of attraction. ' Articles for siile were laid out
in the centre of one room, and a collection of
i
113
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[CHdacMlg
what some think curiosities, and others
rubbisli, was arranged along one side of the
room. Amid the medley of carved ivory
boxes, Chined mandanns, and black-lcttcr
bookM, one pair of curiosities elaborately
labcUcd attracted mc ; the shoe and patten
of a certain Mrs. Susannah Dobson, or
some such name, the daughter of her father
and mother, whoso names were inscribed.
She died — tlie label told us how many years
ago, and also that a monument to her mem-
ory had been erected in her parish church I
the old lady was doubtless a notability m
her day, and we saw how people walked
in pattens when they were ingenious in-
ventions.
By this time wo had gone pretty well
through the Exhibition, and prepared to
retrace our steps over the rocky moor. That
strange wild district seems to lie apart from
all the world, but in some of the scattered
cottages, there are histories going on, beside
which the incidents in a French novel are
tame. There arc men and women, too, who
go about looking quite rough and natural, who
have had incidents in their past lives that
one would have thought mu-st inevitably have
wrecked any existence for ever — but it seems
that fancy goes for a great deal in these
matter:!. The m-itter-of-fact prosaic manner
in which I was told some of the most startling
incidents one could well listen to, astonished
mu even more than the thin$<:fl themselves.
>\'hen we once more reached Bills o' Jacks, wc
had only time to have tea ; for the evenings
soon begin to close in, and our road home
wa.s not made for travelling in darkness.
Our return home did not seem likely to be as
successful as our coming out ; for the little
jailc of {I mare — who had had nothing to do
but eat com and enjoy herself — chose to be
excited at findinR herself in a strange place,
and to be startled by the sound of the falling
water, and began to plunge and dance in a
way that Clytcmnestra called playful. She
mailc as many excuses for her as a mother
might for a spoiled child ; but the two facts
remained — that I was a rank coward and that
the road for the first two miles was down a
hill that was awkward enough when wo came
»ip it in the morning. So Cordelia good-
nnturcdly walked with mc to the bottom;
althou;;h I am sure it must have tried the pa-
<ii*nce of both sisters to see me frightened at
what they did every day. 'When we were
onre more fairly seated in the cart, I was
toll! that the marc had been kept without
wfirk and on an extra allowance of com for
thric or four days, "in order that she
'ni;rht be quite fresh for u.<!." It was un-
inteful of mc, but how thankfully would
i have chanjied her for a sedate cart-horse
without any imapnation, and with much
less corn ! The light* were gleaming on the
hill sides as we passed along, and the dusk
had Ion": sot in l>efore we arrived home, and
found Adeliza lookmg anxiously up the street
for us, for she had begun to feci some mi»
givings about our capabilities of tab ing cut
of ourselves. She had a comfortable suppei
ready for us, and when she had heard our ad-
ventures, she declared, with an emphatie
shake of her head, that the little Jezebel of «
mare should go through a course of hard
work before sne trusted her to go anywhere
without her again.
Thus wc accomplished one object of war
expedition. Wo had seen the Great Saddle*
worth Exhibition ; but the pranks of the
marc had prevented us from bringing h«»M
a single bilberry.
DEAD RECKONING AT THE
MORGUE.
On the island of the city of Paris, standi
the Palace of Justice, with its numerous
courts of law and echoing Hall of the Lort
Footsteps (Salle de» Pom perdu*) ^ its near
and necessary neighbour, the Prison of the
Conciergcrie, once vomiting indiscriminately
into the guillotine-cart crime and innocence;
the Holy Chapel, that marvel of Gothic
architecture ; the great flower market, which,
with its rival on the Place do la Made-
leine, supplies all Paris with iouyueti; the
Prefecture of Police, where strangers miut go
or send, if for no other purpose than to have
their passports indorsed ; the great cathediai
of N6tre Dame, alone worthy of a pilgri*
mage ; the hospital of the Hotel Dieu, ilwni
dedicated to humanity, and once called if
that name, when the virtue was acara ai
Paris; and, not the least curious, thou^to
the majority of sight-seers, perhaps the hat
agreeable, the Morgue or " dead-house."
Why the Morgue is so designated, iff
except philologists can tell. According ft
Vaugelas, morgue is an old French word ijf
nifying face ; and it is still used to ezpresi
consequential look or haughty manner r eflechi
from the countenance. In former times thM
used to bo a small lobby just within the »
trance to all the prisons, which, in France, «■
called the morgve ; because it was thwe tU
the gaolers examined the morgue or 6oe d
each prisoner before he was taken to his o4
that he might be recognised in case of tf-
temptcd evasion. At a later period, it waiii
these ante-chambers that tlie bodies of wk
as were found dead in the streets or elsewhm
were exposed, for recognition, to the gase d
the public, who peep(^ at them through i
wicket in the prison door. In Paris, tk
general place of exposure was in the hnnr
gaol or morgue of the prison of the peat
Ch&telct, and the principal regulations to bi
observed in giving effect to the measure mti
set forth in a police ordinance of the wiA
of the month Florial, in the year eight, wluck
means the twenty-eighth of April, cightM*
hundred, as follows : —
As soon as a corpse was broaght to tin
lower gaol, '.t was to be exposed to pobGt
lh«<M Stckua.1
DEAD RECKONING AT THE MORGUE.
na
view, with all the respect due to decency and
propriety, the clothes of the deceased hanging
bc8ldc it, und it vr&s thus to rcmnin for three
days. In case of tlie body being recognised,
tho30 who idvntiScd it were to niukc their
declaration before the magislnite of the
quarter, or tlie nearest coinuiiisary gf police,
and he having furnished the necei>i;ary paper,
the prefect of police woitld give an order for
the delivery of the retnains and their inter-
ment in the usual manner. Tlio^e who
Claimed tiie corp&e were expected, if it was in
their power, to pay the expenses atlcnduut
upon lindiiig and exposing it, and were al-
lowed to hare the clothes and other etleots
found upon the deceased. All the reports
relating to the bodies taken to the lower gaol
as Weil lii the orders of inlenuent, were to
be inscribed in a register kept for that pur-
pose at the prefecture of police ; and a similar
book w.Ts to l>c kept at tlie lower gaol itself,
in which, day by day, were to be inscribed the
admission of dead bodies, their appearance,
the presumed cause of death, and the date of
their removal. When fragments of a corpse
were fished out of the Seine, those who dLv-
covered them were to give intimation of
the fact to tlio nearest coramis.sary of police,
who was to take the same steps with re-
gard to them as if tho body had been found
entire.
This ordinance remained in force for four
years ; but it being then thought advi.sable
to have a building expressly devoted to the
exposurv nf the dea;il, the present Morcfui;
was constructed close to the north-eustcm
extremity of the bridge of St Michel, en
tho Marehij NeuC No change took place in
the regulttiioiis above cited, nor has any
materiul »lii'ratiou been made in them since
the promulc^ation of the original ordinance.
Till' ist^blishment of the M<ii-gue was par-
ticularly intended to apply to that class of
persons respteting whose habits of life and
place of abode it wnn difficult to obtain such
infoniiaiiun a.s would enable the authorities
to ri-(ji.sur their deaths in a proper manner ;
and the obji-et which llie administration
hoped to attain by the institution, was that
of universal identitication. This has never
been altogether possible, but great progress
has been made towanls> it I'o/ ic.staiiCA in
the year eighteen hundred and thirty, the
proportion of bodies recognised was not more
than four out of ten, while at present tliey
amount to nine-tenths of the whole number
exposed ; with this material addition that,
whereas the bodies formerly remained for the
full period prescribed by law, and goraetimea
even exceeiiod .it, the average time within
which nco^jnilion now takes place is little
more tliaii twenty-four hours.
This inforisation, with what will further he
detaileil. was comnmuicated to me in a wry
busiuessrltke, and I had almost stiid, a Vi:ry
pltn.>eint manner, by Monsieur Uiiptiste, the
inteUigent grejJUr or clerk of the Morgue.
No " mysterious disappearance of a gentle-
man," or lady, such as with us produces an
advertisement in the Times, was the cause of
my " looking in" one line sunny moniing while
on my way, by tho route which most people
take, to Notre Dame. 1 was simply pBi;sing
along the Murche Neuf when, from the open
door of a wine-shop, three or four men in
blouses, accompanied by a woman, suddenly
rushed out, and exclaiming loudly, " Ah ! it is
he then I" ran hastily' across tho street and
dashed into the Morgue. I had often glanced,
with an involuntary shudder, at the cold-
looking vault-like building, and had always
hurried onward ; but on this occasion a feel-
ing of curiosity made me pause. I asked
myself who it was that had excited the sudden
cnjotion which I hud just witnessed < and, as
I put the qMcstion, I found I was proceeding
to answer it by following those who I had no
doubt were the relatives or fricuds of some
one newly discovered.
Passing through a wide carriage gate, I
entered a large vestibule, and, turning to the
left, saw before me the Salle iF Exposition,
where so many ghastly thousands, the victims
of accident or crime, had been brought for
identitication after death. It was separated
from the vestibule by a stroiig barrier, which
supported a range of upright bars, placed a
few inches apart and reaching to the ceiling,
and through the iuterstiees everything within
could be distinctly seen ; this barrier ran
tho wlmle length of the chamber, dividing
it into two nearly equal parii^. It had need
to have been strong, if the grief of all who
pressed ag'&inst it had equalled tlie passionate
sorrow of tho woman who now clung to the
bar in her frenzied c.igernesa to cisisp tho
dead. 1 soon learnt, ii'om her own sobbing
voice, that it was her son. The facts attending
his exposure were of evcry-day otTcurrence:
he had been fished out of the Seine, and there
he laj', livid and swollen ; but, whether ho
had accidentally Allien into the river, or hod
committed suicide, there seemed to be nothing
to show. So at least it appeared to me;
but the mother of the drowned man — ho was
under twenty, and she herself had scarcely
passed middle agt — thought otherwise; for
every now and then she moaned forth a
female name, which the friends who stood
beside her endeavoured to hush, and (ram'
thw 1 inferred that the deceased had proba-
bly acted under one of those impulses of
jealousy which, when it does not seek tho
life of a rival, resolves to suppress its own..
Hut come by his death how ho might, the
identilicaiion was complete, and defeatured
as he wa-s his mother found the sad task
iiodilficulty. Indeed, the manner of exposure
oilers every facility' for recognition. Th«
clothes are hung up over the corpse in audi
a manner that they can be re-idily recognised..
The body iUelf 'is placed on a daik slab,.
Klightly inclining towanls tlie spectatoi-, with-
tho head resting upon a sort of desk or
I
■
1
iU
nOUSRHOLP WOROa
rOmlulM kf
I
low bitwk coTcreii willi »iiic; no that tlie
fi;ntuivs nix* clcurly U> be seun Ixnc-ntli llic
liglil, wliii-h cotiic's in from windows high up
in the wall htliind the corpse. There is a tAp
in the wall for turning on water, whioh rims
otV liy a sniall gutter at the Tool of the slab.
ThiM is all.
It wtt* oiih' oftfr cttreme persuasion thftt
thv inothi'i' of the lii'i i:i-;ftl suffvroil hursclf to
V IlhI *H(iy from the Morpjuc to lier dwelling
ojipoKite. One of the purly remained behind.
He, trto, hiid iileiititied the body a.'i tliat of his
c«>iisin ; mid, upon his declaration, the grtjikr
proceeded to draw up the document, whieh
wns to be taken to the commissioners of
police before the body could be removed
from the biiililing, atthough it was now with-
drawn from the talle tTcipofition and placed
in miother apartnient. Perceiving that I
lingored in the vvstibnle after the departure
of the cou.sin, Monsieur Baptiste accoetcd
ine, and civilly conjectured thot, as I waa
alone, perhaps it would afford mo BOine
"ainiLsenient" to see that part of the builil-
ing which wnj* not usually shown to the public.
He plftcedliiniself cntin-Iy atniydiKposition. I
accepted his courtesy with many th.inlw ; and,
harini; crosseil the vestibule, he opened a door
on the right hand, and intrmhiced nic into the
otBcc ovcrwhich he presided. " lien?," he raid,
with a slight flourish of hi.s hand, "all the
iinportjuit forms attendant upon the several
«nirie» and departures were filled up by
himself—* function which, he knew he need
not asMurc me, wa.i a highly responsible one.
To discover a dead body," ho atided, " was a
sufflcienlly simple process — to dajfuerreotypc
it in pen and ink was another. Even if that
talU ifeTpiyrlfion diil not exist, Monsieur,
here," he exclaimed, tapping an enormous
folio *rith brazen clasps, " could be seen,
in tny own handwriting, dl Uie proofs
nece.sinry for eHtablisliing a secaru ideiitili-
calion."
I ventui-ed to suggest, with humility — for I
was a straniri'r in I'aris — that some impedi-
ineiif ■ • — . offered to lliis mwle of giving
gi-n. ■ ! ion, in the possible fuel that
the tnuion-i of .It lea.<t one-half of the unfor-
tunate people wliose bodies were taken to the
Morgue might not be able to read.
"Then," replie<l Monsieur Iljtptisto, un-
dauntedly, " I would read my description to
thoRc poor people."
Of eoiitse, it was not for me to donbt the
skill nf ihi? worthy little grt^gier, but I conld
not help fancying from a certain recollection
df the jiortraiture of pawports — that it wa.s
quite as well the hall of cxpos;ure and idcnti-
flcatfon did exiHt. However, I made no com-
ment upon Monsieur Baptisto's triumphant
rejoinder, and we passed on. ^
Apart from a little pleasant personal vanity i
I found >[onsi>.-ur Kaptiste a very intelligent .
companion. FVoiu the office he conducle\l mo '
to the »alU (Tautitpiie (di.ssccting-room), in I
which were two diiscctii]g tables, one of Ihem |
' supplied with a disinfecting apparatuit, com-
inuntcating with a stove in an adjoining
apartment. Beyond this was the rtmut
(coach-house) containing the wagg^m -shaped
hearse, which conveyed to the cemetery —
without show, and merely shroude«i in a
coarse cloth — such bodies aa were either un-
claimed or unrecognised. The next chamber
was called tlio talU d« Intnge, or washing
room. It was flagged all OTer and fiupplied
with a large stone trough, in which the clothes
of the persons brought iti were washed ; it
served also for sluicing the bodied Sinnlarly
(lagged throughout wa.s anciUier apartment,
the tallf tie drgagemmt, or priviito room,
situate<I between the »nlU dii lurngtt and the
»alU iTexfX'iiitio)!, where temf>or.irily depo-
sited on fttoue tables — out of the reach bf
insects fVom whose attacks they were pro-
tected by a covering of prepared cloth — lay the
bodies of tliosc who had been idcntifle<1, such
as were in too advanceil a ■■'tagc of decompo-
sition to admit of recognition, and sucli aa
were destined for intcnuent The last afiSTt*
ment in the Morgue that ix-ninins to be
noticed, but which I did not enter, wa.* the
(V>mA/«, a hort of garret, in which that one of
the two attendants slept, who^e duly it is to
pass the night on the premises ; his sleep
being very frequently disturbed by fresh
arrivals.
" .\nd how many admissions take pla^e In
the Morgue, in the course of the year ?" I
inquired of Monsieur Baptiste.
" Faith," replied he, slirugiring his should-
ers, " of one kind or other, there is .scarcely
a single day without something fre.'^h. Ob-
serve, Monsieur, they do not come in regtl-
larly. Not at all, Sometinies wc are quite
empty for days ; an<l then, again, wc are
cniwdeil to such a degree as scarcely to be
able to fuid room for all that arrive. In the
extremes of the seasons — the height of sum*
mer and the depth of winter — the number!
are the greatest But if Monsieur is curiooe
to know the precise factn, I shall have great
pleasure in informing him."
Thereupon Monsieur Baptiste invited me
once more to enter his office ; and, having
accommodated me with a .H-at, he appealed to
the brazen clasped volume to correct hi.s star
tistirs, and communicated to mc Uie following
particulars.
The Morgue, he said, was supplied notonlr
from the forty-eight qvartirrt into which
Paris is divitled ; but received a coiipideraWe
share from the seventy -eight enmvtvn" of the
fmnlievf, or townships within the jurisdiction
of the capita] ; from the rommvne» of Scvnia,
.Saint Cloud, and Mcudon ; frnn; " ' nil,
Saint CJermain, and from other pi; i iig
on the river. The average nnml" t ; i iunium
amounted to three hundred ami si.\1y-four,
which Monsieur Buf>liste arranged as lolluws:
including the separate fragment* of dead
bodies, which he rated at eleven entries there
were brougiit, be said.tbirty-eight children pro.
MibM.]
DEAD RECKONING AT THE MORGUE.
lis
mattirely bom, twenty-six th«t hod reached
th<> full tcnn, nnd of aHuIti; two hundred
tind thirt_v-(-ig1it mon ami fifty-one women.
Me divided the two Inst into four ontegorics.
Of Rcctxt honiiriilei*, IIkto were the Imilies of
'.hrec nn'n nnd two women ; of such ds had
diM from sicl;nrss or very suridenly, thirty-
four men and elcTcn women; of the acd-
dentnlly hurt where dentli had supervened,
sixty -sis men and four women ; and of sui-
cides, the larpe number of one hundred and
thirty men and thirty-five woroen.
I rcmsrkeil that the disproportion between
thu wxi^s van ranch prenter than I had
iina^int-d ; indeed I had rather expected that
the liolanec would have inclined the other
way.
'' If MonBieur -would permit me," said the
polite Ilaptiste, " I would cause bim to observe
th.it men have more rc&Aons for comniittinj;
snilcide than women ; or, if this he dis-pufed,
that they are less tenacious of existence than
the other sex, who unden^tand that their
muwion ia to bear. A woman's hope, Monsiicur,
is almost as strong as her lore, often they are
the same. But a man! Iiefore the fai-e of
adversity he turns pale; the pain of the pre-
sent is intolenililc to him ; in preference to
that, he wvers tics which a woman slmddcrs
to think of hrrakinp. A woman never forjrels
that her children are a part of herself; a
man frequently considers them a mere acci-
dent.
'■ Rut, after all," T remarked, " the sum
total which j'ou have named appears to me
not enormous, con».tdcrin!? the extent of
Paris and itss dependtneios, the numiiur of its
iniwihilants, and,' I added, after a short
pause, "the irapreBsioTuble character of the
peofilc."
"That obsi I ration would be perfectly
jusrt," returned Monsieur Baptiste, "if all
who met with violent deaths in Paris were
trntLsported to the Moi-j^ue. But the fact is
(HflVreiit. Those chielly — I mi^ht almost syjy
those only — are broujrht here, whasc place of
abode ia unknown in the quarter where they
are found. The persons neciilcntally killed
at work, a proportion of those who ore run
over or injured by animals, the victims of
jioison or chnn-oal, or hanpn?, nr duel«, have
for the roMt part a fixed residence, nnd to
brinfr them to the Morf^uc for identification
would be nnnereiKary. Even such as try the
water, and they furnish the majority of caKCS
(this act being tlie least premeditated), have
homes or the dwcllincs of friends or masters
to which they arc conreycd hy witnesses of
the dec<l. It is the solitarj', homeless suicide,
who in the middle of the. nipht leaps from
the parapet of the brid^ and is found in the
mesbfs of the./?/'"'* dm mnrtt (the dead-net.*)
that comos to this establi.<i.hnient. That this
ix n fiict the eenenil returns otilcially declare ;
for the mimber of drowned persons who are
•X]if«ed in tho Moriciio are only one-sixth
of those whose remains arc taken to their
own dwellings; and this proportion is ex-
ceeded in most of the other cases."
. I ventured to suppose that where cvery-
thinpf was so methodically ordered, some ap-
proximation ns to thi- cnu.«c of the numerous
suicides — the lii.<t scene of which was wit-
nessed in the Morjjne — had been arrived at in
the estahlishment. Monsieur Bnptiste told
me I was ri^ht. Diligent inquiry, voluntary
information, and conjecture ba.sed upon long
experience, had, he believed, arrived very
nearly at the truth, and these condusiona
were thus set forth.
Taking one hundred and sixty-nine for the
annual aggrepate, the number of men who
commited suicide in a state of insanity or de-
lirium, was twenty-two ; of women eight. On
account of domestic trouble, the numbers were
eighteen and .six; of drunkenness, fifteen and
two ; of misery, thirteen and four; ofdisgust of
life, eleven and three; of disappointed love, ten
and three; of misconduct, eight and two; of
incurable maladies, eight and one; dread of
judicial investigation, .seven and one; em-
bcizleraent and defalcations, si.x .iiid one;
wfiile on account of causes that could not be
ascertained or gues.sed at there remained
sixteen men and live women.
It appeared from what Monsieur Baptista
further stated, that selfactivity in procuring
the means of death w.is much greater in the
men th.Tn the women.
" A woman, Monsieur," fi.iid the (fi'fffit'f,
"when she has made up her mind to die,
chooses the speediest ami most passive form
of self-destruction. Shrinking from Ihi'
thoughts of blood, she seldom employs fire-
arms or a sharp instrument — these are a nmirs
weapons; for those who shoot themselves,
we have ten men and only one woman ; by
the knife three men alone; it is merely on
the stage that a woman uses the dagger. In
sutfocation by the fumes of charcoal — the
easiest death known — tlie women exceed the
men, the numbers being three atid two; in
CJ19CS of drowning, the general proportion
holds twenty-six women and ninety-seven
men selecting that mode of death. Sixteen
men and two women hang themselves, four
men and three women throw themselves from
high places, two men end their lives by
poison; nnd in this way. Monsieur, the sum
total i.s made up."
" I have," I said, " but one more quesHpn
to ask now, Wbnt is the period of life at
which suicide is most frerjuent ?"
'* \ uinn's tendency to shorten his days,"
replied .Monsieur Baptiste, " is principally
developed between the ages of twenty and
fifty ; it is strongest in woman before sbc
reaches thirty, diminishes fronj that age to
forty, subsides still more within the next ten
years, revives agiiin for another decade, and
then bci^omes almost extinct. Old men
become wciiry of life towards its close much
oftencr tli.in women. Fn that »"fl« ifMrfioti-
(ioi) I have Seen in one year the white liaiis
4
\
I
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
I
I
P
of four men of eighty, more or less ; but of aged
women never wore than two. Ah, Monsieur,
the Morgue i.s not a very gaj place to live in,
but it is a great teiicher."
A CBILD'S niSTORY OF ENGLAND.
cnArTEB xxxvin.
I SHALI not try to relnte tlie partio'il«r8 of
the great civil war between Kinp; Charles the
First and the Long Parliament, which lB.«te<1
nearly four yearn, and n full account of which
would Rll many large books. It wa.s s nad
thin^ that Englishmen Rhould once more he
n^htini; against Englishmen on English
cronml ; but, it is some ccmRolation to know
tliat on both sides there w.ns preat htimanitv,
f'lrbcarancc and honour. The soldiers of the
Parliament were far more remarkable for
llioi^e ;:ood qualities than the soldiers of the
Kinn (ninny of whom fought for mere pay
"iiliout much caring for the cause); buttho.ie
->r the nobility and gentry who wure on the
Kin;r'K side were so brave, and so faithful to
liini, that their conduct cannot but command
our highest admiration. Among the.'ie were
trnat numbers of Catholics, who took the
niynl fide because the Queen was so strongly
«>f their persuasion.
The King might have disfinptiishcd some
of these gallant ftpiriL^, if he had been as
(Tcncrous a spirit himself, by giving them the
commandof his anny. Instead of that, how-
ever, true to hi."? old high notions of royalty,
he cntru.sted it to liii! two nephews, Prince
Ri'i'EKT and Prince Matrice, who were of
TDval tilood, nod cnme over from abroad to
help him. It might have been better fur him
if they had stayed away, since Prince Rupert
was nn impetuous hot-headed fellow, wbo.^e
only idea wa-s to dash into b.ittle at all times
ind seasons, and lay about him.
The gencml-in-chief of the Parlinmcntary
army was the Earl of Esssc.t, a gentleman of
honour and an excellent Boldier. A little
while Ix'forc the war broke out, there had been
some rioting at AVcstminster between certain
officiou.s law students ntul noi.sy soldiers, and
the shopkeepers and their apprentices, and the
ppooral people in the streets. At that time thp
King'.s friends called the crowd, Roundheads,
bccau.sc the apprentices wore short hair; the
crowd, in return, called their opponents
Cavaliers, meaning that they were a bUister-
ing set, who pretended to be very military.
Th'.'Rc two word." now b'-gsn to bo Msed to
distinguish the two sides in the civil war.
The Royali.sts al.so called the Parliamentary
men Rebels and Rogues, while the Parlia-
mentary men called them Malignants, and
spoke of themselves as the Godly, the Uonest,
and so forth.
The war broke out at Portsmouth, where
that dcuhle traitor Goring had again pone
over to the King and was besieged by the
Parliamentary troops. Upon this, the King
proclaimed the Earl of Essex and the officers
serving under him, traitors, and called upon
his loyal subjeotii to meet him in arms at
Nottingham on the twenty-fifth of August.
But his loyal subjects came about him in
scanty numbers, and it waa a windy gloomy
day, and the Royal Standard got blown down,
and the whole affair was very melancholy.
The chief engagements after Ihi.s, took place
in the vale of the Red Horse near Banbnrr,
in Wiltshire, at Urcntford, at Devi/,cs, at
Chalgravc Field (where Mr. Hampden was
so sorely wounded while fighting at the head
of hus men, that he died within a week), at
Tewkesbury (in which battle Lord Falk-
LANP, one of the best noblemen on the King's
side, was killed), at Leicester, at Nasi-bv, at
Winchester, at Marston .Moor near York, at
Newcastle, and in many other parts ot
England and Scotland. These battles wens
attended with various succc.s.ses. At one
time the King was victorious; at another time
the Parliament But a1mo.st all the great
and busy towns were against the King ; and
when it was considered necessary lo fortify
London, all ranks of people, from labouring
men and women up to lords and Indies,
worked hard together with heartiness and
good-will. The most distinguished leaders
on the Parliamentary side were llAMrDKK,
Sia Thomas FAiKrAX, and above all, Outkr
Cromwejj,, and his .son-in-luw IncToM.
During the whole of this war, the people,
to whom it was very expensive and irksome,
and to whom it was made the more <listres.sing
by almost every family being divided — some
of its members attaching themselves to tho
one side and some to the other — were over
and over again most anxious for peace. So
were some of the best men in each cause.
Accordingly, treaties of peace were discussed
between commissioners from the Parliament
and the King; at York, at Oxford (whcr<' the
King held a little Parliament of his own),
and at TT.vbridci-'. But they came to nothings
In all these negociations, and in nil bis diffl-
nilties, (he King showed himself at his best
He was courageous, cool, self-possessed and
clever; but, the old taint of his character was
always in him, and he was never for one
single moment to be trusted. Lord Clarendon,
the historian, one of his highest admirers,
supposes that he had unhappily promised the
t^ueen never to make peace without her con-
sent, and thai this must often be taken as his
excuse. He never kept his word from night
to morning. He signed o cos.satinn of hos-
tilitiea with the blooil-stained Irish rebels
for a sum of money, and invited tho Iriah
regiments over, to help him against the
Parliament In the battle of Naseby, his
cabinet was seized and was foiiml to contain
a rorrespondenre with the Queen, in which
he expressly told her (hnt he had deceived
the Parliament — a mongrel Parliiinient, he
called it now, as an improvtmerit on his old
term of vipers — in pretending to n-cngniM it
and to treat with it ; and (roai which it
■rfal Drakcui ]
A CHILD'S mSTOitY OP ENGLAND.
117
further appeared that he had been long in
secret treaty with the Duke of Lorruine for
t foreign army of ten thousand men. Dis-
appointed in tiiis, he sent a most devoted
friend of his the Eaul op GLAMonGAjr, to
Ireland, to conclude a secret treaty with the
Catholic powers, to send him an Irish army
of ten thoii.'iAnd men ; in return for which
he wa? to IkkIow great favours on the
Catholic religion. And when this treaty was
discorercd in the carriage of a lighting Tri.sh
Archbishop, who was killed in one of the
many skirmislies of those' day*, he basely
denied and deserted his attiichetl friend, the
Earl, on his being charged with high treason ;
and — even worse than this — liad left blanks
in tlic secret instructions he gave him with
bis own kingly hanti, expressly that he
might thus save himself.
At last, on the twenty-seventh day of April,
one thousand six hundred and fortr-si.T, the
King found himself in the city of Oxford, so
surrounded V>y the Parliamentary array who
were closing in upon him on all sides, tlint he
felt that if he would escape, he must delay
no longer. So, that night, having altered the
cut of his hair and beard, he was drca-sed up
as a servant and put upon a horse with a
cloak strapped behind him, and rode out of the
town behind one of hi.s own faithful followers,
with a clergyman of that country, who know
tlic road well, for a guide. Uc rode towards
London as far a.s ^Bm^w, and then altered
hh plans, and rtsolved, it would seem, to go
to the Scottish camp. The Scottish men had
been invited over to help the Parliamentary
array, and bad a large force then in Knsland.
The King wai* so dr»p<Tatcly intriguing in
everything he did, that it is doiihtfiil what he
exactly meant by thi.s step. He took it, any-
how, and delivered himself up to the Eaki.
or Lbves, the Scottish general-in-chief, who
treated him as an honourable prisoner. Ne-
gotiations between the Parliament on the onu
Land and the Scottish authorities on the other
as to what should be done vrith him, l.nstcd
until the following February. Then, when
the King had refused to the Parliament the
conce.«ion of that old militia point for twenty
years, and had refused to Scotland the recog-
nition of its Solemn League and Covenant,
Scotland got a hatidsomo sum for its army
and its help, and the Kins; into the bargain.
He vrtis taken by certain Parliamentary com-
mi.^iioners appointed to receive him, to one
of his own houses, called llolmby House, near
Althorpe, in Northamptonshire.
W'hile the Civil War was still in progrc.s.<i,
John Pytn died, and was buried with great
honour in Westminster .\bbey — nnt with
greater honour than he deserved, fop thcliltcr-
ties of Englishmen owe a mighty debt to Pym
and Hampden. The war w.'<s hut ncwty over
when the Eirl of Essex died, of an illncs-s
brought on by his having overheated himself
in a stag hunt in Windsor Forest He, too,
was buried in Westmin8*.er Abbey, with great
state. I wish it were not necessary to add
that Archbishop Laud died upon the scaffold
when the war was not yet done. His trial
lasted in all nearly a year, and, it being
doubtful even then whether the charges
brought against him amounted to trca.son, the
odious old contrivance of the worst kings was
resorted to, and a bill of attainder was brought
in against him. He was a violently prejudiced
and mischievous person, bad had strong car-
cropping and nosc-sUtting propensities, as you
know, and had done a world of harm. But he
died peaceably, and like a brave old man.
COAPTER XXXIX.
AVhes the Parliament had got the King
into their hands, they became very anxious
to get rid of their army, in which Oliver
Croiuwetl had begun to acquire great power ;
not oidy because of his courage and high
abilities, but because he professed to be very
sincere in the Scottish sort of Puritan religion
that was then exceedingly popular among the
soldiers. They were as much opposed to the
Bishops as to the Pope himself; and the very
privates, drummers, and trumpeters, had such
an inconvenient habit of starting up and
preaching long-winded discourses, that I
would not have belonged to that army on
any account
So, the Parliament being far fh>m sure but
that the army might begin to preach and 6ght
against them now it h.td nothing else to do,
proposed to disband a greater part of it, to
send another part to serve in Ireland against
the rebels, and to keep only a small force in
England. But, the army would not consent
to be broken up, e.\ci'fit upon its own con-
ditions; and when the Parliament showed
aji intention of compelling it, it acted for
itself in an unexpected manner. A certain
cornet, of the name of Joice, arrived at
Uohnby House one night, attended by four
hundred horsemen, went into the King's
room with his hat in one hand and a pistol
in the other, and told the King that ho
had come to take him away. The King,
was willing enough to go, and only sti[ivdftteJ
that he should be [)ublicly required to do so
next morning. Next morning, accordingly,
he appeared on the top of the steps of tho
house, and a.-^ked Cornet Joit-e before his men
and the guard set tliere by the Parliament,
what autiiority he had for Ljiktng him away?
To thiji Cornet Joice replied, '" the authority
of the army." " Have you a written com-
mi.ision !" .said the King. Joice, pointing to
his four hundred men on horseback, replied,
" that is my comini.s.sion." " Well," said the
King smiling, as if ho were pleased, "i
never Iternro read sueh a commis.sion ; but
it is written in fJiir and legible eharacterft.
This is a company of as liandsomo proper
gentlemen as I have seen a long while. He
was asked where he would like to live, and
he said at Newmarket So, to Newmarket
he, and Comet Joice, and the four hundred
I
I
I
i
118
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
ICMdoeiWtf
horsemen, rode ; the King remarking in the
same smiling way, that he could ride as far
at a spell as Cornet Joice, or any man there.
Tlie King quite believed, I think, that the
anny were his friends. lie said as much
to Fairfax when that general, Oliver Cromwell
and Ircton,. went to persuade him to return
to the custody of the Parliament. He pre-
ferred to *^main as he was, and resolved to
remain as he was. And when the army
moved nearer and nearer London to frighten
the Parliament into yielding to their demands,
they took the King with them. It was a
deploring thing that England should be at
the mercy of a great l)ody of soldiers with
anus in their hands, but tlie King certainly
favoured them at this impoi'tant time of his
life in reference to the more lawful power that
tried to control him. It must be atldcd, how-
ever, that they treated him, as yet, more re-
spectfully and kindly than the Parliament
had ever done. They allowed him to be
attended by his own servants, to be splendidly
entertained at various hoiuses, and to sec his
children — at Cavesham House, near Reading
— for two days. Whereas, tlie Psirliament
had been rather hard with him, and had only
allowed him to ride out and play at Ik>w1s.
It is much to be believed that if the King
could have been trusted, even at this time,
he might havo been saved. Even Oliver
Cromwell expressly said that ho did believe
that no man could enjoy his possessions in
])eac«, unless the King had his rights. He
was not unfriendly towards the King; he
had been present when he received his
children, and had been much afTccted by the
pitiable nature of the scene ; he saw the King
often ; he frequently walked and talked with
him in the long galleries and pleasant
gardens of the Palace at Hampton Court,
whither lie was now removed; and in all
this risked something of his influence with
the army. But, the King was in secret hopes
of help from the Scottish people; and the
moment he was encouraged to join them he
bejran to be cool to his new friends, the army,
and to tell the officers that they could not pos-
sibly do without him. At the very time, too,
when he was promising to make Cromwell and
Irelon noblemen, if they would help him up
to his old height, he was writing to the Queen
that ho meant to hang them. They both
afUrwards declared that they had l)een
privately informed that such a letter would
be found, on a certain evening, sewn up in a
«i(ldle, which would be taken to the Blue
Hoar in lloUwrn to be sent to Dover ; and
that they went there, disguised as common
soldiers, and satdrinkinjr in the inn-yard until
of tK„ V . X ,"'.T Cromwell told one
Kin„ '^'."K 8 most faithful followers that the
King could not be trusted, and that he would
not bo answerable if anyUiing amiss were
I ilUfc uu
to happen to him. Still, even after that, he
kept a promise he had made to the King, by
letting him know that there was a plot with
a certain portion of the army to seize hinL
I believe that, in fact he sincerely wanted
the King to escape abroad, and so to be got
rid of without more trouble or danger. That
Oliver himself had work enough with the
army is pretty plain, for some of the troops
were so mutinous against him, and against
those who acte<l with him at this time, that
he found it necessary to have one man shot
at the head of his regiment to overawe the
rest
The King, when he received Oliver'i
warning, made his escape from Hampton
Court, and, after somo indecision and un-
certainty, went to Carisbrooke Castle in the
Isle of Wight At first, he was pretty free
there ; but, even there, he carried on a pre-
tended treaty with the Parliament, while h«
was really treating with commissiuDers from
Scotlantl to send an army into £ugland to
take his part When he broke off this
treaty with the Parliament (having settled
with Scotland) and was treated as a prisoner,
his treatment was not changed too soon, for
he had plotted to escape that very night to
a ship sent by the Queen, which was lying
olF the island.
He was doome<l to be disappointed in hii
hopes from Scotland. The agreement be
had miidc with the Scottish Coramtssioncn
was not favourable enough to the religion tt
thatcountry, to please thu Scottish clergy, and
they preached against it. The consequcan
was, that the army raise<l in Scotland ad
sent over, was too smiill to do much; ui
that, although it was helped by a riaing <(
the lloyallsts in England and by good fiolain i
from Ireland, it could make no head agaisri
the Parliamentary army under Buch men ■
Cromwell and Fairfax. The King's eldirt
son, the Prince of Wales, came over froa
Holland with nineteen ships (a pturt d* Iki
English fleet having gone over to him) M
help his father, but nothing came of U
voyage, and he was fain to return. The rant
remaricabic event of this second civil «■
was the cruel execution by the Fulii'
mentary General, of Sm Charles LFCAsad
Sib Georgk Llslr, two gallant RoyaEl
generals, who had bravely defended GUI'
Chester under every disadvantage of ftmix
and distress for nearly three months. Whs
Sir Charles Lucas M-as shot, Sir Geoi|i
Li.sle kissed his body, and said to the solAai
who were to shoot him, " Come nearer, ui
make sure of me." " I warrant you, Sk
George," said one of the soldiers, *' wc ibd
hit you." " Aye ?" he returned with KtaSt,
" but I have been nearer to you, my Mend^
many a time, and you have missed me."
The Parliament, after being fearfully bulM
by the army, who demanded to have sera
members whom they disliked given up tt
them, had voted that they woidd Un
\
I piit.a>.]
A CHILD'S HISTORY OF EXGLANT).
notliing more to do vrith the King ; on the
conclusion, however, of litis second I'ivil nrar
(which i1i(i not last more cluiibix laontli^) Uiey
ftppointcii conimiiisioDcrs to treat with him.
Thu Kin;^, then so far released again ns to be
allowed to live in a private house at Newport
in the l:ile of Wight, managed his own poi't
of the negotiation vrith a sense tliat was
admired by all who saw him, and ^iive up, iu
the end, all that was asked of him — even
yielding (which he had steadily refused, so
fw) to the'teinporary abolition of the bishops
ami the transfer of their church land to
the Crown. Still, with bis old fatal vice
upon liira, when his best friends joined the
commissioners in bescccliing him to yield all
those points as the only mcaas of saving him-
self from the army, he was plotting to escape
from the island ; he was holding corrcspoti-
dcpri; with hiii {riends and the Catholics in
Ireland, though declaring tliat he wu^ not;
and he wa.s writing with his own hand Uiat in
what he yielded, he ineaiit nothing but to get
time to escape.
Matters were at tliis pass wfaen the army,
resolved to defy the Parliament, marched up
to London. The Parliament, not afraid of
them now, and boldly led by Hollis, voted
that the King's concessions were sutficietit
ground tor settling the peace of the kingdom.
IFpon tl»3t, Coto.N'Ei, Ilicn and Colomx
Pkide went down to the House of Common.'*
with a regiment of horse soldiers and a regi-
ment of foot ; and Colonel Pride, st.nnding in
the lobby with a list of the members who
were obnoxious to the army in his hand, had
them pointed out to him (u they c-anio
through, an<l took thum all into cu.stody.
This proceeding was afterwards called by the
people, for a joke. Pride's Plbob. Crom-
well was in the Xortb, at the head of Lis
men, at the time, but when he came home,
approved of what had been done.
What with imprisoning .>>otne members and
causing otliers to slay away, the army had
now reduced the House of Commons to sonic
filly or BO. These soon voted that it vras
treosuD in a king to inoko war against his
parliament and hia people, and sent an ordi-
nance up to the House of Lords for the King's
being tri«d as a traitor. The House of Lonis
then .sistcon in number, to a man rejected it.
Thereupon, the Commons mode an ordinance
of their own, that they were the supreme
government of the country', and would bring
the King to trial.
The King had been taken for security to a
place oalk-d Hurst Castle : a lonely house on
a rock in tiie sea, connected with the coast of
Hampshire by a rough road two miles long
at low water. Thence be was ordered to be
removed to Windsor ; thence, after being
but rudely used (here, and having none but
■oldicrs to wait upon him at table, he w.'ts
brought up to St. James's Palace in London,
and told that his trial was appointed for nest
day.
On Saturday, the twentieth of Jatiuary, cno
thousand six hundred and forty-nine, this me-
morable trial began. The House of Commons
had settled tJiat one hundred and thirty- Jive
persons should foim the Court., and these
were taken from the House itself, from among
the officcre of the army, and from among the
lawyers and citizens. John BiiAi)i-u,\w, ser-
jeant-at-law, was appointed president The
place was Wcstniinster Hall, At the upper
end, in a red velvet chair, sat the prcsidett,
with his hat (lined with plates of iron for his
jirotection) on his head. The rest of the
Court sat on side benches, also wearing their
hats. The King's seat was covered with
velvet, like that of the president, and was
opposite to it. He was brought from SL
James's to Whitehall, and from Whitehall he
came by water, to his trial.
When he came in, he looked round very
steadily on the Court, and on the groat
number of spectators, and then sut down :
pnsintly he got up and looked roimd a^in.
On the indictment "against Charles Stuart,
for high trca-son," being read, he smiled
several timis, and ho denied the authority
of' the Court, saying that there could be no
j)arliami.'nt without a House of Lords, and
that he saw no House of Lords there. Also
that the King ought to be there, and that
he saw no King in the King's right place.
Bradshaw rcplitd, that the Court was satistii.d
with its aulliority and thnt its authority
was God's authority and the kingdom'^
He then adjourned the Court to the following
Monday. On that day, the triiU wan re-
sumed, and went on all tlio week. When
the Saturday came, as the King passed
forward to his place in the Hall, some soldiers
and others cried for "justice I" and cxecu'
tion on him. That daj', too, Bradshaw, like
an angry Sultan, wore a red robe, instead
of the black one ho had worn before. The
King w:is sentenced to death that day. As
he went out, one solitary soldier suiil, "God
bless you, Sir!" For this, his officer struck
him. The King said he tboutrht the punish-
ment exceeded the otience. The .silver head
of his walking-stick had fallen off white ho
leaned upon it, at one time of the tii.*!. The
accident seemed to disturb him, tin if he
thought it ominous of the falling of his own
head ; and ho admitted as much now it was
all over.
Being taken back to Whitehall he sent to
the House of Common.s saying that as the
time of his execution might be nigh, ho
wished he might be allowed to see his darling
children. It wa.<« gnknted. t>n the Momlay
he wo-s taken back to St. Jamcs'.-i, and his two
children then in Eiiglaml, the Piii.Ncr^s Eli-
7.ABETIJ thirteen years olii, and (he Ui'kk o»
GuuxESTKii nine years old, were brought to
take leave of him, from Sion House, near
ISrentford. It was a sad and touching scene,
when he kissed and fondled these poor
children, and made a little present of two
\
ISO
HOUSEHOLD WORD&
diiimond geals to the Princess, and gave them
tundcr messages to their mother, (who little
deserved them, for she had a loTcr of her
own whom she married soon afterwards) and
told them that he died "for the laws and
lilicrtics of the land." I am bound to say
that I don't think ho did, but I dare say he
believed so.
There were ambassadors from Holland, that
da}', to intercede for the unhappy King, whom
you and I both wish the Parliament had
spared ; but they got no answer. The Scottish
Commissioners interceded too; so did the
Prince of Wales, by a letter in which he
offered, as the next heir to the throne, to
accept any conditions from the Parliament;
so did the Queen by letter likewise. Not-
withstanding all, the warrant for the execu-
tion w^as this day signed. There is a story
that as Oliver Cromwell went to the table
with the pen in his hand to put his signa-
ture to it, he drew his pen across the
face of one of the commissioners who was
standing near, and marked it with the ink.
Thitt commissioner had not signed his ovm
name yet, and the story adds, that when he
came to do it, he marked Cromwell's fece
witli ink in the same way.
The King slept well, untroubled by the
knowledge that it was his last night on earth,
and rose on the thirtieth of January, two
liotirs before day, and dressed himself care-
fully, lie put on two shirts lest he should
tremble with the cold, and had his hair very
carefully combed. The warrant had been
directed to three officers of the army, Coloxel
II.\cKi:n, Colonel Hunks, and Colonel
PnAvr.K. At ten o'clock, the first of those
came to the door and said it was time to go
to Whitehall. The King, who had always been
a quick walkcr,N walked at his usual speed
through the Park, and called out to the
giianl, with his accustomed voice of command,
"March on apace!" ^Vhen he came to
Whitehall, he was taken to his own bed-
room, where a breakfast wa.s set forth. As
he had taken the Sacrament, he would eat
nothing more, but at about the time when
the church bells struck twelve at noon (for
ha had to wait, through the scaffold not being
ready) he took the advice of the good Bisnop
Jrxos who was with him, and eat a little
broad, and drank a glass of claret. Soon
after he had taken this refreshment, Colonel
11 acker came to the chamber with the warrant
ui his hand, and called for Charles Stuart
,.-r."'\ *''*" through the long gallery of
A\ httehall Palace, which he had oRen seen
..-lit ami Rny and merry and crowded, in
very different times, the fallen King paj^sed
along, until he came to the centre window
of the Banquetting House, through which
he emerged upon the scaffold, wbich vu
hung with black. He looked at the two
executioners who were dressed in black
and masked; be looked at the troops of
soldiers on horseback and on foot, who
all looked up at him in silence; he looked
at the vast array of spectators, filling up
the view beyond, and turning all their &cea
upon him; he looked at his old Palace of
St James's; and he looked at the blodc
He seemed a little troubled to find that it
was so low, and asked " if there were no place
higher?" Then, to tho.sc upon the scaiTold,
he said " that it was tho Parliament who had
begun the war, and not he ; but he hoped they
might be guiltless too, as ill instrumailii
had gone between them. In one respect," be
said, " he suffered justly, and that wai
because he had permitted an unjust sentence
to be executed on another." In this he re-
ferred to the Eari of Strafford.
He was not at all afraid to die ; but be
was anxious to die easily. When some one
touched the axe while he was speaking, be
broke off and called out, " take heed of the
axe ! take heed of the axe !" He also aud to
Colonel Hacker, " Take care that they do net
put me to pain." He told the cxecationer, >
" I shall say but very short prayers, and then
thrust out ray hands " — as the sign to strike i
He put his hair up, under a white sadn t
cap which the bishop had carried, and aid, :
" I have a good cause and a gracious God oa I
my side." The bishop told him that he bad
but one stago more to travel in this wwy
world, and that though it was a turbriat
and troubolsome stage, it was a shwt tu,
and would carry him a great way — all fti
way from earth to Heaven. The Kiaii
last word, as he gave his cloak andw
George — ^the decoration iVom his breast— fc
the bishop, was this, "Remember I" Ik
then kneeled down, laid his head apon tki
block, spread out his hands, and was inatullf
killed. One universal groan broke fivm tb
crowd ; and the soldiers, who had sat on tbA
horses and stood in their ranks immovdbk
as statues, were of a sudden all in moliH
clearing the streets.
Thus in the forty-ninth year of bii if^
falling at the same time of bis career *
Strafford bad fallen in bis, perished Cbari*
the First AVith all my sorrow for biai. I
cannot agree with him that ho died "tk
Martyr of the people;" for the people W
been martyrs to him and his ideas of a Kiif* I
rights, long before. Indeed I ana afnid 4*1
he was but a bad judge of martyrs; fcrh
had called that infamous Duke of BuddnglMB
" the Martyr of his Sovereign."
litLm »i> Bioniu, Priihri ud SURaljptn, M Hertli WlllUm SttM^ Hew T«k.
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
A WEEKLY JOUP.NAL
CONDUCTED BY CHARUES DICKENS.
Vol. VIU.
McELRATH i BAUKER, PUBLISiiERA
OvfKS Ntt. 11 Sj-avcB «T««BT, Niv YOIIK.
WuotE No, 185.
THINGS THAT CANNOT BE DONE.
NoTUisa QagrAntl)' wrong c«n be dune,
without atlequato punishment, unJcr the
English law. What a comfortalilc truth that
is ! I have always achiiirol the En^h'sh law
with all my heart, as being plain, chv^ip, corn-
prehcnsivo, ea.sy,unmL>!t.akable, strong to help
the right AacT, weak to help the wrong doer,
entirely free from adherence to barbarous
usages which the worl<l haj passcfi, ami
knows to be riiJiculoiis and unjust It is
delightfiil never to sec the law at fault, never
to ftnd it in what our American relatives call
a iix, never to behoUl a 8<:oundrcl able to
ghicld himself with it, alway' to contemplate
the improving spoet-ii-le of l.aw in its wig and
gownri leading blind Justice by the liand and
keeping her in the stniight broad cwirse.
I am parti<'ularly struck at the present
time, by the majesty with which the Law
proteeta its own humble administrators.
Next to the x)unishment of any otTunce bv
fining tht ottunder in a sum of money — which
is a pra-'tice of the Law, too enlightened and
too obviou.sly just and wise, to need any com-
mendation — the penalties inflicted on an
intolerable brute who maims a police officer
for life, make my soul expand with a soIlmtiu
joy. I constantly read in the newspapers of
such an olTender being committed to prison
with hani labour, for one, two, or even three
months. Side Viy siiie with Siuch a case, I
read the statement of a surgeon to the piilice
force, that within nuch a 8|)cciflcd short time,
BO many men liave been nnder his care for
similar injuries ; so many of whom have re-
covered, after undergoing a refinement of
pain expressly contemplated by their a.^iail-
ants in the nature of tlieir attack ; so many of
whom, being permanently debilitated and iii-
capacita(c<i, have been dismi.ssed the force.
Then, I know that a wild bcn-st in a man'!*
ionn cannot gratify bis savage hatred of
those who check him in the perpetration of
crime, without suffering a thousand times
more thiui the object of his wrath, and with-
out being made n certain and a stern example.
And this is one of the occasions on which the
beauty of the Law of England {ills me with the
8olen)n joy I have mentione<L
The paeans I have of late been singing
within myself on the subject of the determi-
Tou VIII.-N0. iSft
nation of the Law to prevent by .severe pun-
i.'^iinictit the oppression and ill-treatment of
Women, have been echoed in tlie public
journals. It is true that an ill-conditioned
friend of mine, possessing the remarkably
inappropriate name of Common Sense, is nut
fully satisfied on this head. It i.s true that
lie .s.tys to jne " Will j-ou look at these cases
of brutality, and tell nie whutheryou consider
six years of the hardest prison task-work
(instcjid of six month;*; punishment enough
fur such enormous cruelty ? Will you read
the iniTc.i.sing records of these violences
from <lay to day, as more and more sulferers
are gi-aduiilly encouraged by a la>v of six
month.s' standing to disclose their long endu-
rance, and will you consider what a legal
system that mu.st be which only now applies
an imperfect remedy to such a giant evil!
Will you think of the torments and murders
of A «5ark perspective of past years, and ask
yourself the question whether in exulting so
mightily, at this lime of da)-, over a hiw fjuntly
asserting the lowest first principle of all law,
yo" are not somewhat sarca.stic on the virtuous
.SUtutes at large, piled up there on innume-
rable shelves?" It is true, I .say, that my ill-
condltiont'd friend does twit me, and the law I
dote on, after this manner ; but it is enough
for me to know, that for a miin to inaiin and
kill his wifo 1)}' inches — or even the woman,
wife or no wife, who shares his home — with-
out most surely incurring a punishment, the
justice of which satisfies the mind and heart
of lhL> common level of humanity, is one
of the things tliat cannot bo done.
But, deliljerately, falsely, defarningly, pub-
licly and pcfseveringly, to pursue and outrage
any woman is foremost among the things that
cannot be done. Of course it cannot be done.
This is the year one thousand eight hundred
and fifty-three ; and Steam and Electricity
would indeed have left the limping Law
behind, if it etiuld be done in the present age,
Let me put an impo.ssible case, to illu.s-
tmte at once my admiration of the Law, and
its tender care for Women. This may be an
appropriate time for doing so, when most of
■us are complimenting the Law on its avenging
galir.ntry.
Suppo.se a young lady to be !c(l a great
heiress, under cii-cumstanees which cause the
general attention to be attracted to her
I
123
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
tCendacMlf
I
name. Suppose her to be modest, retiring,
otherwise only known for her virtues, charities,
an«l noble actions. Suppose an abandoned
sharper, so debased, so wanting in tlic man-
hood of a commonly vile swindler, so lost
to every sense of shame and disgrace, as to
conceive the original idea of liunting tliis
young lady through life until she buys him
off witlt mone.v. Suppose him to adjust the
speculation deliberately with liimsi-lf. "I
know nothing of her, I never saw her ; but
I am a bankrupt, with no character and no
trade that brings me in any money ; and I
mean to make the pursuit of her, my trade.
She seeks retirement ; I will drag her out of
it She avoids notorietr ; I will force it upon
her. She is rich ; she shall stand ond deliver.
I am poor ; I will have plunder. The opinion
of society. AVhat is that to me ? I know
the Law, and the Law will be my friend —
not hers."
It is very difficult, I know, to su])pose such
a set of circumstances, or to imagine such an
animal not caged behind iron bars or knocked
on the head. But, let us stretch elastic fancy
to such an extreme point of supposition. lie
goes to work at the trade he has taken up,
and works at it, industriously, say for fifteen,
sixteen, seventeen years. lie invents the
most preposterous and transparent lies, which
not one human being whoso cars they ever
reach can pos.sibly bcIicTC. He pretends that
the lady promised to marry him — say, in a non-
sensical jingle of rhymes which he produces,
and which he says and swears (for wliat will he
not say and swear except the truth ?) is the
proiluction of the lady's hand. Before in-
capable country justices, and dim little
farthing rushlights of the law, he drags this
lady at his pleasure, whenever he will. He
makes the Law a screw to force the hand she
has had the courage to close upon her purse
from the beginning. He makes the Law a
rack on which to torture her constancy, her
affections, her consideration for the living,
and her veneration for the dead. He shakes
the letter of the Law over the heads of the
puny tribunals he selects for his infamous
purpose, and frightens them into an endu-
rance of his audacious mendacity. Because
the Law is a Law of the peddling letter and
not of the comprehensive spirit, this magis-
trate shall privately bribe him with money to
condescend to overlook his omission (sanc-
tioned by the practice of years) of some
miserable form as to the exact spot in which
he puts his magisterial signature upon a docu-
ment ; and that commissioner shall publicly
compliment him upon his extraordinary
acquirements, when it is manifest upon the
face of the written evidence before the same
learned commissioner's eyes in court, that he
cannot so iimch as spell. But he knows the
Law. And the letter of the Law is with the
rascal, and not with the rascal's prey.
For, we are to suppose that oil through
these years, he is never punished with any
punishment worthy of the name, for his real
offence. He is now and then held to bail,
guts out of prison, and goes to his trade
again. He commits wilful and con-u|>t per-
jury, down a byeway, and is lightly punished
for that ; but he <akes his brazen face ilong
the high road of bis guilt, ancrushcd. Th»
blundering, babbling, botched Law, in split-
ting hairs with him, makes business fbr
it.self; they get on very well together —
worthy companion.s — shepherds both.
Now, I am willing to admit that if such %
case as this, could by any pos-xibility 1>e ; if
it could go on so long and so publicly, as that
the whole town should have the facts within
its intimate knowledge ; if it were as well
known as the Queen's name; if it nerer
preseuted itself afresh, in any court, without
awakening an honest indignation in tbs
breasts of all the audience not learned in the
Law ; and yet if tliis nefarious culprit wen
just as free to drive his trade at last as he
was at first, and the object of his ingenious
speculation could find absolutely no redress ;
then, and in that case, I say, I am willing to
admit that the Law would be a fal.sc pretence
and a self-convicted failure. But, happily,
and as we all know, this is one of the things
that cannot bo done.
No. Supposing such a culprit face to &ee
with it, the Law would address him thaa
" Stand up, knave, and hear me ! I am doI
the thing of shreds and patches you Kuppoe&
I am not tlio dcg^raded creature whom any ,
wretch may invoke to gratify his bsKit
appetites and do his dirtiest work. Not fer
that, am I part and parcel of a costly sjitM
maintained with cheerfulness out of ihi
labours of a great free people. Not for tW,
do I continually glorify my Bench and af
Bar, and, from my high place, look compb'
cently upon a sea of wigs. I am not i
jumble and jargon of wonls, fcllov; I ami
Principle. I was set up here, by those «li
con pull me down — aud will, if I be ii'
capable — to punish the wrong-doer, for th
sake of the body-politic in whoso name I
act, and from whom alone my power is it
rived. I know you, well, for a wrongHdotr;
I have it in proof Ijefore me that jou ores
forsworn, crafty, defiant, bullying, peatilal
impostor. And if I be not an impostor tM^
and a worse one, my plainest duty is to e'
my heel upon you — which I mean to dobefitt
j'ou go hence.
" Attend to mo yet, knave. Hdd jvm
peace! You are one of those landshaita
whose eyes have twinkled to see the driving if
co.ichcs and six through Acts of Parliament
and who come up with their dirty little dog'i
meat carts to follow through the nX
crooked ways. But you shall know, that I
am something more than a maze of tortnoni
ins and oub>, and that I have at least tm
l)l.ain road — to wit, the road by wliich, forth
general protection, and in the exercise of off
first function, I mean to Bend you into tff'
A«W< Pukfiw.)
LANNA TIXEL.
ISW
keeping ; filly ihousand Acts, and a huDdrtd
thousand Cnpt>, and fire hundred thouwnd
Sees, notwithstanding.
" For, Buast of Pre/, above the ptrplexcd
letter of all Law that has ftiiy luiglit in it,
goes the spirit If I be, as I elniiii to be,
the child of Justice, and not the oflipring of
the Artful Dodger, that spirit shall, boforc I
gabble through one k-gail argument more,
provide for you and all the like of you, as
you deserve. If it oannot do that of itself,
I will have letter to help it Hut I will not
remain here, a spectacle and a scandal to
those who arc the breath of niy nostrils, with
jour dirty hands clinging to my robe, your
brazen lungs iniarepn.«euthig me, your
shameless fj*co beslarering mu in my prosti-
tution."
Thus the Law clearly would addre«s any
such impossible person. For this reason,
aiuong others not dissimilar, I glory in the
Law, and am ready at all times to shed my
best blood to uphold iL For this reason loo,
I am proud, as an Englishman, to know that
such a design upon a woman tki I liavc, in a
wild moment, imagined, is not to be entered
upon, and is— as it ought to be — one of the
things that can never be done.
LAXXA TIXEL.
U.MDBH a Stiff hollybush cut like a dragon,
tile chief glory in the garden of her father
the BurgomHstcr, little I>nnna Tixcl lay with
her face to the grass, sobbing and quivering.
Ten minutes ago she had parsed silently out
of her father's sick chamber with a white
face and eyes large with terror ; she had fled
through the great still bouse into the garden,
and fallen down under the dragon to give
way to an agony of something more tliaji
childish grief. Poor little I^anna I Sheltered
by the priukly wings of that old garden
monster, she had wept many a time for the
lo.<s of a pale, blue-eyed mother, who hud
gone from her to be one of the stars ; but that
was a grief fidl of love and tenderness, that
led to ycarning.s heavenward. Shu lay then
grieving with her tearful eyes fixed on the
blue sky, watching the clouds or wondering
which of the first Stars of evening might he
the bright soul of her saint. Now she had
her face pressed down into the earth — htT
father waa on his death-bed ; but there was
something wilder in her agony than childish
sorrow. In the twilight the green dragon
Bcomird to hang like a real fiend over the
plump little child that ha<l been thrown to it,
And that liij cowering within reach ol its jaivs.
So perhaps thought the sallow-faced Hans
Dank, the leanest man in the Low Countries
wn<\ VL't no skeleton ; who, after a time, ha<i
followed the child down from the sick cham-
ber and stood gravely by, lending his car to
her distreas. lie might liuve thought so,
though he was by no means imaginative, for
be ha<l facts in his head that could have,
by themselves, suggested such a notion.
"Lannal" said Steward Dank, us ijuielly aa
though he was but calling her to dinner.
"Ijinna!" She heard nothing. "Your
father asks for you." She rose at once, with
a fierce shudder, and Mr. Dank led her
indoors by the hand.
Burgomaster Tixel was the richest and
most friendless man in Amsterd.im. He loved
only two things, his money, and his daughter,
and he loved both in a wretched, comfortless
and miserably jealous way. He was ignorant
and superstitious, as most people were in his
time — two or three centuries ago. If ha could
live to-day, and act as he u.sed to act, he
would be very properly confined in Bedlatu.
lie lay very near death in a large room,
gloomy with the shadows of eveiiirig and
hung with heavy tapesti'ies. Mr. Dunk led
I^nna to his side. "You will conquer your
fear, darling," said the Burgomiister, with a
rattle in his harsh voice. "If you have loved
me I prepare for you a pleasure. If you
have not loved rac, if my memory is never to
be dear to von — be punished."
"0 father!"
" You arc too young to think — but twelve
years old — it is tuy place to think for you, and
Dank will pare for you when I am gone,
because, dear, it is made his interest to do ua
When you know the worth of your inheritance
you will not speak as you have si)oken. You
are a child. U'hat do you know ("
" She knows," said Mr. Dank, in a 'dry
tnntter-of-foct way, " the value of a Citlicr a
blessing."
" True," said the Burgomaster, glaring at
the child ; ilic signal lights of the great rock
of death on vviiich he was fast breaking to
pieces, glittered in his eyes. "True, I/inna.
Your obedience ia the price of my last
ble-ssing."
" I will obey you," she said, and he blessed
her. Then the little girl fell in a great agony
of fear uvvt his hand crying, " O father, ]
should like to die with you!"
" That is well, darling," said the Burgo-
master. " Those arc tender words."
lie made her nestle on the bod beside him
and then put an ann about her : prcs,sing her
again.st his breasL " Now," said he, " let the
priests come in!" and the last rites of the
Church were celebrated over the Burgo-
ma-ster, while his little daughter remained
thus imprisoned. And the dead arm of the
Burgomaster, when hid miserly and miserable
soul was lied, still pressed the little girl to
bis dead heart.
Eight years afUr.tho death in Amsterdam
of Burgomaster Ti.xol, there was born at
Blickford, in Devonshire, the first and last
child of Ilodge Xoddison, a tiller uf the soil,
willi, a lar^c body, a hai'd haml, and a heart
to match it. Ho was not naturally a bad
fellow, but he was intensely stupid (as hand-
labourers in those days usually were) for w »nt
4
IM
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
(OMdacMtt
of teaching; and so through sheer stupidity
he was made rallou!!, obstinate, and cruel.
Ho beat his wife every day more or less;
auuisvd hinisi-lfon holidays with brubil sports,
and very much preferred strong drinks to the
coan^; bn-ad then eaten by the poorer classes
in ttiis country. Xoddison had been twelve
years married and had only recently been
l)le<so<1 with a child, solely in consequence of
the aid of some scrapings from the tooth of a
oroco«lilo, mixed with a little hedgehog's fat
and eaten off a fig-leaf
t)ne May evening Ilodge Koddison was
rolling home by the field path from a rough
drinking party at the Bull Inn near Blick-
'ord, when the fat ribs of the (attest man in
Devonshire came in his way, and he was
not soIkt enougli to see reason why he should
not pummel them. To work he set with
such drunken exasperation, that he bc-
Ltl>oured his victim too frantically to find out
that he was driving, as fast as he was able,
the life out of the tyrannical Dutchman whom
he calle<.1 master ; the dreadful old Dank, upon
whom at that time, himself, his wife, and his
first-lwni were dependent for bread. The fat
old foreigner roaivd and screamed and bel-
lowed nith pain to such an exces.<s that his
orios tlow over the blossoms of the blackthorn
hedge from the ditch in which ho was Iving,
and reached the ears of Mrs. NodJison.
Out she Hew ; and found Dank, although not
Siriously hurt, lying insensible behind the
hedge. Notldison's wife had time to discover
what deed had been done, and to take
counsel, with herself, before law and ven-
geance knocked at the door of their miserable
shed.
Tiuy lived in a sort of grotto made by a
rniU< lieaj) of stones piled together on the
edgi- of a great moor. There was a piece of
nuuKly water close by, known to the Blickford
I'oople as Nick's Pond, in which it wa.-! the
custom of the place to drown all the black
kituns that were bom, and through which
all the bUi'k cats of the parish liad gone
down to pervlition years ago.
Mrs. Noddison got her husltand home with
ditllcuhy, and commcnce^l maturing hor ]>1ar.s.
It was quite evident that he would not gi't
ni\y work again on the Dutch farm, and
she did not mind that, for the estate was
iu>t in go^vl repute among the neighl>ours ;
it wa<5 also evident that' he would be re-
tiuired to go to jail if he could not escape
(ho con-siaWes. How should ho do that
whon he had his liquor to sleep otf. and
v:i^ nlreudy suorini: at full length on the
iiulhen lloorf lU-r gixnl man might W
carted oil to safety; but she had nocart.'aiid he
was uuuh U>M heavy to W earrio>l piok-a-Kick.
lluw was no chimney up which he nu"cht W
thrust ; there was, of course, no ci:j>Kvirvl ; for
huleetl there was not somueh a* a second r^vin
In th« Kne old cottagi" where thev dwelt, a'l of
Iho »ildeii liH\e. Tl>en« was the straw ihev slept
upon J but there was not enough of that to
cover him. Besides, if there had been
chimneys, cupboards, or whole waggon loads
of straw, how could they conceal a man
who snored so mightily ?
Mistress Noddison, living in a lone place,
had no near neighbours to whom she
might run for counsel ; great was her joy,
therefore, when Goody Fubs happened to
come in, late as it wa.s, with the bit of frog's
bile, which she had promised and vowed at
a godmother should be her present to the
baby. A most precious remedy against all
mundane ills.
" Do you think, Goody, it would pat n^
husband out o* harm !" Mrs. Noddison added
to her question an exceedingly long narrativa
Mrs. Fubs responded with long maledictioni
on the Dutch ; and wished to know what
right foreign wenches had eating up the com
in Devonshire. Mrs. Xoddison didnH so
much mind the wench ; she was a bit mad to
be sure : but if, as folk said, the heretics wen
out in her own country, and the powers of
evil were let loose, and there were burnings,
and quarterings, and cannon roaring perfaapi
she was no fool to have come to Devonshire
for peace and quiet. For herself^ too, sbe
I was free enough of money and pleaiut
enough. — " When she is not possessnl," said i
Gootly Fubs. The gossips then proceeded to ;
discuss how far the evil one had ]>ower enr |
Lanna Tixel, who had a queer stare brtimei ii
about the eyes and wandered about naaieatf |l
and — Holy Mary ! what was ihat I
A white figure flitted, like a phantoa^ if
the open door. The two women looted M
together. It was she of whom they tdU
It was Lanna. When the moon shflMNt
from among the flying clouds they recogBRl
hor, hurrying along like one pursued.
They came in and shut the door, and tt
toned it, and shook their heads at one anotha
Goodv Fulis presently drawing a long broA
hopej the Dutch witch might not be off b
meeting. She looked, said Mistress Noddim
as if she had a mighty way to travel beta
midnight. .V loud knocking at the dooraroorf
them, and its clumsy fikstenings were ahnaalil
the same in«tant burst open. The wooB
overlo>>ked Hodge altogether; justice hi
not No lamentation hindering, he was I
once bound wrist and anole and diaggti
gruntir.g like a pig. to jail.
On th? same evening, but somevlid
earlier, hi- fore the night clouds had begun II
flov-k in: > the sky. a young English coldia;
captain of a regiment.' h.id ridden firom 4»
stables o: the manor house. leaving the sqnn.
his fatlicr. ci>:n;ortab!y coi'.cd under his o«*
d-nver ta*>!o. ar...l had galloped down theliM
' between the h^-ilges full of May blos««n,tt
pay a visit to his neighhour<> of the GnB|!b
known c\Mn::'.orly as the Dutch Farm. H»
.<aw fr\»m h's saddle over the hedge-top b»»
IKylg»> Xoi:dis.in was helping his unsta^T
homeward walk by steering with his co^
iXvb4 tXckaM.!
JLANNA TIXEL.
135
Moreover, he was not bchtt prescntlj to see
llic portly fhime of Mr. Dank, surmounted
by his very satumiue anil ugly fiicc, moving
towardfl bim, with bis back turned to the
Grange. The soldier grvcted Dutch Dank
with unwonted cordiality as he rode by, whis-
pering to himself, " Latina will be altme."
The Dutch Fann answered to its title;
Cuyp might bare painted scenes out of it
The Grange itself had a trim, closely shaven
aspect ; aiul, on a wide smooth lawn that
Btretclicd before the windosvs of the bouse,
there were yew and box trees cut into fantastic
sliapes of cocks and men, and even fishes :
one tree, a large bollybush, was being clipped
and trained into the form of a green dragon
witlj (.'Xpanded wings. There were no fi'agra.nt
(lower-beds or pleasant bowers; there was
nolbiiii; gayer than a clump of guelder rows
and laliurnunia near an open window.
At the window Lanna sat and saw the
■olUicr coming. She was a girl of twenty,
lovely as a girl can be who lias a colourless
Ikce. She had a great wealth of brown hair,
and bad alw) birge blue wondering eyes.
Site knew that she looked well in a white
drefcs, and she, in some odd, boding way, ex-
i)eclod Captain Artliur — the young soldier,
in his father'ii neighbourhood, went by his
Chrisiian natuo — .she was, therefore, dressed
in white.
[" Dear lady, you have never before looked
lie,'' he saicL
The captain's horse was soon tied by its
bridle t<j the bollybush, and Lanna, hurrying
out upon tile lawn, erprcssed her regret that
Mr. Dank was absent. Yet, since she loved
Captain Arthur — the first man who had
tuken pains to win her heart — with all the
ardour of a young girl who is fatherless and
motherless ; who lives expoi>i.'d to daily check
and chill ; in whom a ilood of repressed feeling
has for years been accumulaling, she could
not have regretted much the absienco of the
watchful steward. Captain .'Vrtbur was ivo
genius, as Lanna would have known had she
bean ten years older, but he was in a passion
of what they call love, with Lanna. .-Vnd he
had persisted in it, notwithstanding much
that he had beard. He did not care if it
wore true, as the old squire swore, indignantly,
that she bewitched bim with her glances. To
■ay that of a young lady is now a very pretty
album phrase. 'JPhcn it conveyed coarser
imputations tlian can decently be specitted.
Lanna, holy as an angel in her rnnidcn's
heart, gucHsed her Iriond's love, and wished
to hear it sj)oken.
Captain Arthur did not disappoint her
wishes. IIo f-poke boldly out. \Vhon he
would have placed the trembling girl upon
% bench erected close under the clump of
guelder roses, .she looked at liiiii, and saiil
with a quivering face tliat would not lend
fttHsIf to an attempt at smiles, "Let us sit
Bnder the dragon." So they did sit under
the dragon ; and there the captain made an
end of speaking and left 00" so confident of
her answer, that, while she remained fixed as
the statue of a listener, he must needs turn
from the main theme to ask her why her
humour favoured that extremely ugly holly-
bush, and why she must pronounce his
sentence under such a canopy. Lanna broke
out into a wild fit of sobbing; Captain
Arthur comforted her clumsily ; but suddenly
she became calm.
" Here," she said, " is best ; I shall talk
to this dragon when you are gone. Wo had
such a dragon that knew my secrets at hoTne.
If you would know my secrets this is a good
tree for you to be under. Here is your horse
close by within reach. Should the wish
suddenly seize you to leave mc alone and
forlorn, you have but to mount and fly."
The captain moved restlessly ; did she
mean to confirm Ibo worst suspicions of the
parish before answering his question? "I
have no right to say what I should say to
you," ho liegan, " but there is an odd question
I would if I dare " — He stopped suildcnly
— the stars of evening were coming out, and
Lanna looked up at them.
"Help me, mother I" she cried; and Cap-
t.iin .\rthur, running his thoughts on in the
old groove, remnrke<l that she demanded
help of mother somebody, and (a auspicious
fttctj did not cry, " Help me, God I"
'* I cannot let my heart loo.se, or answer
you any question that takes so much hesi-
tation to ask," Launa said, " until you know
the terrible condition by which torment is
prepare*! for any man who marries me."
The captain shrank from her side, and
lookttd up with a .shuddt-r at the wings of the
groen dragon under which they sat cnsha-
dawed.
" There is a doom upon mc," Lanna mur-
mured ; "and it is I, now, who am wtviting to
bo scntcncctl,"
The captain had risen, and was stroking
nerrou.sly his horse's mane.
" Yet it is no great thing," Ijjnna con-
tinued, "that it should .so much ulTriglit me.
You are a man, and perha])3 may laugh at it,
and teach rao to laugh at it with you." Still
she spoke in a rceklcss, hopeless way, and
Captain Arthur was more shocked than lie
bad beeu before.
"Leave your horse but for one minute,"
Lanna said, " and come into the house."
Tlic captain wavered for a Uttlo while ; bat
there was yet love — or his sort of love —
manfully ivrestling in his heart with supcr-
slttiou. He followed Lanna through the
rumbling passages of the great house, lit
dimly by the twilight out of doors. With a
key taken from her girdle she opened w.iy for
bim into a, room, over the floor of which ho
walked some steps and instntitly turned back
in atfright, and meeting her on the thresh-
bold, with uplifted hands nnd an imploring
face, he pu.shcd bur from him with a heavy
hand, mounted his horse and galloped away.
1
1S«
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
(OonAinM Iv
I
I
I
I
I
She reeled ; but the blow gave no pnin to her
flesh. It siftncd to her that but on instant
passed before she heard the rapiil g:nIloj) of
liis horse. The first impulse nhe obeyed wns
absurd ; she Followeii him. If she had told
her story more metljodically it cowhl never
hare affirted liim so much, although it would
DO doubt have ended in his quitting; her,
She must explain all, or what would he
think? But Captain Arthur galloped aa
thuugli he were pursued bj somebody not
quite so innocent as Lanna Ti.tel. A few
minutes of running through cool evening air,
cau<scd that first impulse to die out
Then «lie sat down under the blos-soms of a
Maythorn hedge, picking industriously at its
leaves; and so she sat in a long reverie, till
the moon rose, and she heard groans of which
she had not earlier been conscious. At the
same lime she saw, behind the opposite hedge,
a face covered with blood, which she took to
be a dead face. It was the living face of Mr.
Dank, who had returned to sense after his
tlini.'ihing. She could not go home to rest.
Territied and vexed in (spirit she fled, looking
like a shrouded corpse herself, towards the
moor, and then it was that she interrupted
the gosKips' learned conversation.
" .Vnd how docs (he frog's bile actf" asked
Mr.*. Noddison. "That," said Gooily Ful>?,
" I (jiiite fiirgot to ask, I had it from a gowip
who is dead. No doubt it nuii't be eaten."
Mrs. NixWison was not at all comfortless over
the de|iarlure of her hu.sband. Free he would
earn nuthing, after his last evening's work,
lie might nswell therefore be fed in jail. Her
skin too would be the sounder for a rest The
baby was just one of those puny squalid
things that used to perish by thoiiiiands in
the wretched hut."! of a fine old English
pcftSJinlry, all of the olden time. Mrs. Nnd-
dison was full of mother's care about it
Goody Fubs was full of neighbourly advice,
and very eloquent upon the subject of her
nostrum, n black fetid mess containing nobody
knows what.
While the two gossips talked, the flying
clouds let fall a flying shower. I.anna was
still on tlie moor, and the sudden rain recalled
her to a sense of her position. She wns
out, she recollected, at a strange hour, k
must be at the earliest ten o'clock, an hmir
later than bed-time. Lanna turnetl home-
wards, tliivijjh there WM no place so terrible
to htr «.s home.
" Vrell then, if you will hold the child."
said Goitdy Fiibs to Mistres.s Noddison, "I'll
give it the remedy, and then it never shall
know Imrni again in this world." " .\men.
Goody, iinil thank you," When the child felt
the fvo'/s liilo in its throat it besan to ^crc.'>tIl
mightily and choke, but the stuff nevertheless
was swiillnweii .\t tliat instant, as Goody
rtalvd iiRiTward-s tlie rain .suddenly ci'ascd
to patler on the shingles. The child srresmed
more fin<l iihiro. It went into convulsion.s.
T'lL' liitt d'l.ir bad been left open, and indeed
almost broken to pieces by tbc ronstablesw A
white figrtirc glided by. "Ave Maria I"
gn>aned old Goody Fubs, not to be heard
through the screaming of the child, " there's
Lanna Tixel !'' The child's face was black,
llie (Icrcinesflof tbc screaming caused Lanna
(o turn back, and stand irresolutely in th«
doorway, rtacly to enter and bring help if she
wci-c able. Goody Fubs made a great cross
with her fingers over her own wrinkled fore-
head, and then llcw at the delicate cheekjs of
Lanna with her nails. L.inna fled .Tgain,
followed by loud RJirieks from Mrs. N'iKldiwon ;
the child's voice was gone, it lay dun^b in a
dead struggle.
"O, the bile!" moaned Mrs. Koddison.
" The witch !" groaned Good)- Fubs.
The two or three domestics living in the
Grange were in attendance on the barber
surgeon, bu.sy, I^anna found, with Mr. Daidc,
who had been waylaid and beaten, as she un-
derstood. She knew then that it was no
ghost she had .'*cn, and, pitying his condition,
though he was no friend to her, she tended by
the steward's bedside half the night through,
after she had paid a visit to her seenrt
chamber. His bruises were not serious, (ho
cut upon his head had been bound up, be had
been comfortably shaved, had been bled in
the arm, and had received an emetic. Ilia
case therefore promi.sed well, and towards
morning the surgeon left him quietly a.sleep,
and reconiniendeil I^nna to rvtirv, at the
same time suggesting that » he shoul<l balho
her swollen nose with rincgar, and take a
powder, for she seemed to bare had a rery
ugly fall.
Lanna slept heavily for a great many hotjrR,
and in the morning found that .Mr. Dank,
though very much weakened, w.-is not con-
fined to his bed : he was up and out gon« to
encounter Noddison in a formal and judicial
way before the squire and his brother justic«.
Ijinna, with acliitig heart and throbliing nose,
and a wide border of black rouml one of her
blue e}"es, endeavoured to pa tlirotigh hcT
usual routine of duties. In the course of t)M
day they took her into Blickford.
Two little Iioys at (ilay in a ditch about a
(juarter of a mile out of the village, leaped up
when they saw her coming, and scampered on
before as fast a.s they were able, sliouting her
name aloud. They had been put there as
scouts or Ifviik-out men, and h;i<l beguiled
their tiuie while on their fiost with jiitch and
tns.s. r.<nnna understood nothing of that, and
could not at nil tell what it meant, when a
turn in the road liroiiplit her in sight of the
first hou.ses in Blickford, and f-he saw the
wh'>le village turning out with broonia to
meet her. Goody Fubs advancing; as the
village champion, struck the poor orphan with
her broom, and then throwing away the
weapon, grappled with her. Men threw
stones at her, women pressed round, jrrapplod
together and fought for the privilege of
pinching her or pulling at the ricti locks of
LANNa fIXEL.
UT
brann hair that Goody their leader had set
floating.
" Kick's Pond I" «•« the try. The yoiing
foreign uitcti must be tried \>y wntor — inno-
cent if she drowned, and guilty if ehogwaiu.
In ft wild and tcrriWe proctssicMi of the whole
;i>>|iulutiijii uf till- vilJ.i|<Vi with the children
hiTenuiiiig and dancing joyoiwly about in the
excitvinent of a witch-ducking, Lanna wan
draggfd to the moor, where Mistrc-jw No<ldi-
8on tife«- from ber cottage as a tigrcsa from her
lair, ind lore ihc llcsh and garments of the
will li, and showed her the dead child. Mounted
constables were hurrying in the dirL-ction of
the riut, I'ut tlioyonly came in time to drag the
wtcIcIumI tirl out of the pond into which she
W3» thrust, and Ihuy came not to jirotect hut
to arrint lur. There was fresii evidence,
some of iho uiiii hinted to the villagei-s, and
a tno«t aggravated case against her. Stic wis
therefore eniTied U> the round-house, and
spent the next thirty hours, half sntrocated,
and U)cked uji with very filthy people.
Then she waM brought out on one of the
last and tine»t days of the merry month of
May, and taken into the presence of tlie
justices, with *Mjnire t'aufeat Uieir head, who
had long been of opinion that she had be-
witcliL-d his son by wicked arts, ami now was
ture of iL The case was then gone into.
It was shown tliat on a ceruiin evening
Ho<Jg<« XoJdison maltreated the companion
of liie accu!«>.-d, a foreigner nxnied iiuns
Dank, who it was now a-sccrtained had
accretly ina<te his escape out of the neigh-
bourliiHid, and had gone no one could tind
out whither. It was presumed that she rc-
cvived iiiKlant information from Kotnc imp
of the deed that Noddison had done, for she
was out in the direction of N'oddigon'a honse
bcfori' any human tidings could liinrc reached
her. It vvas proreil that NodJison was ca.st
into a deadly letiiarg}', duriii2;wlii<'li the witch
wa-i Been Hitting about upon the niour before
hi-i diKir, and that immediatcty after she had
vani.shed Noddison was taken by the con-
Eta1ilc!< It WON proved that in further puni^li-
inotit of NtvUison, the accused Ijinna Tilcel
4id by her arts tlirow his only child into
violent conrulsions, during which she again
appeared at the floor and gazed in upon the
child with her large blue eyes, immediately
tStcr (he- inlliction of which ^ar.e it died. It
was shown »ko that the min cca«!e<l when
she a|iiii.ircd, and that Goody Fub.s lo.st a
yonntr riorker, and sutFered more than asuallj
from her rh<"umatism on the day that she
aa.>-i-<ted at tin.- uinking of the wicked woman.
Tiiesi' rfvelanons were not ni.rcss.iry to
induce I'aiifkin Arthur to appear against the
■tren wtio had oracfised on him with herait«.
Ha nrovi-'l that when he had been drawn by
ftcr aevices — etspecially, he thought, by her
larpc eyes — to declare love towanls her, she,
lM>Ei<'Tin"thatMhe had himin her toils,confis'5i-<J
' to hnn in plain words that she had a fnmillnr
tn tn. shapi- of a dragon or a hollybush with
which she of\en talked, and that it was >o-
quainte*! with her Kccrcts. The dragon on
the Lawn wss, therefore, part of her enchant-
ment, »nd it wa.s natural to consider that the
Btrangc figures of cocks and tlshe.s to be Been
on the Dutch fann. though they looked like
box, and yew, and holly trees must be really
and truly demoas. The ciiptain further
proved, that l>eing in nonio trouble, and
sobbing, the witch called for help upon a
certain Mother Somebody, he did not catch
the name, because she, the said witciv, sobbed
while she was speaking.
In answer to a question from the bench
he said that it was not "Mother of God."
" She fiu'tlier," he said, " vi-ntnrcd so far
as to tell me that I was to mnrry upon tho
condition of Rutrcring eternnl torment"
(Here a thrill ran through the whole a.'s.sera-
bly). " She told mc that she herself was
doomed, but that it wa.«i a light tiiatlcr, and
that we misht laugh at it togrther."
During this revelation Lanna fainte<3. She
showed no trace of her former beauty, for no
change of dress or mean.s of clennlinc-.'ss ha>l
been provided for her since she was liiken
from the tilthy pond, and she appeared to
have C4iught sontc kind of ft-vcr in the round-
house. \VlH'n she recoverol she was com-
pelled to -Stand 11)1 that her (a<"e might bo seen
during the rest of tlic cxuniinafion. Her
hou^e had been searched. A white object
wa.s brought tlirough a lane made in the
shudd'.ring crowd, and suddenly presented
before Lanna. She was seized with violetit
h3'steric.«. It was the waxen image of a
corpse robed in its graveclothes : an exact
effigy of the dead body of her father.
"She took me to a room," said Captain
Arthur, "in which lay this image. Ithought
it had been taken lh>m the grave, and fell at
once that she was one of the worj<t kind
of witches. 1 See now that it i.>; made of wax."
AVhilo Ltnnn remained still inscuftililc a
learned prie.'it stood forward, and gave evidence
that the u-sc of these waxen images by witches
w.as well known. They were the figures of
men to whom they wished evil. The witches
moulded them and Mu.sed them to wiusto
slowly, and a* the was wa.'Jted, so wasted the
victim's lli'sli. Thev also pricked and stabbed
them, and when tfiey did so the true desh
felt every hurt that was indietod. This wag
undoubtedly the image of .some person whom
the witch ti.vel had killed by her enchant-
ments.
The Icarnciljustieci then waited until Lanna
wa.s 80 far recovered that she could bu made to
speak ; pains l>eing t.aken to expedite her re-
collection of herself hy means not altogether
free from cruelty. She siid, however, very
little. There wa.s no escape fur her, she said,
nnri she desired none. She had lived too long.
But she wished Captain Arthur to reflect upon
the words she had used, and hear now, if he
would, the story she designed to tell him.
She WIS ordered to address tho court, and
i
I
=1
128
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
did so, Captain Arthur being present " That
image was the doom I spoke of. It is the
image of my father as he lay dead trhcn, if I
might, I would have died with him. He was
superstitious, as you all are who accuse me
here to-day of witchcraft. He was jealous
of my lore, and wished to bo remembered by
me daily when I had his wealth. I would
liarc rejected that, for his desire was horrible
to me. But next on the peril of losing his
blessing, I was made to promise that, wher-
ever I lived, I would preserve the effigy of my
dead father, every day eat my dinner in its
presence, and every night kiss it before I
went to rest I was a child then, and a
terror seized mc which I never have been
able to shake off. I have not dared to dis-
obe}'. Hans Dank was my fiither's steward,
who was privy to it all, and who was made
by will my guardian and inquisitor. Let him
prove that 1 speak truth in this. There is
one thing more which concerns me little now.
My father thought that while the image of
his body lasted, the body itself would remain
whole in the tomb, awaiting mine that was
to be placed beside it Then our dust was
to mingle. He was a superstitious man, as
you are superstitious men. I shall be burnt ;
you will defeat his wishes. That is the truth
which I wish Captain Arthur now to hear.
My mother died when I was four years old.
I am friendless ; and there is no one but the
man who offered mc bis love for whose sake
I care whether or not I die disgraced."
The squire was vcrv wroth at these allu-
sions to his son, and said, when she had made
an end of speaking, " AVitch, you know truly
wliat will be your end. If your accomplice
wore indeed here, ho could not save you, but
you can have no support from him, because,
knowing his guilt, he fled when he first heard
that these proceedings would bo taken. For
your tale, by which you artfully endeavour to
mislead my son, it cannot serve you. It
touches in nothing what has been proved
against you in the case of the Noddisons, your
victims. With what mysterious designs you
cau.sed this dreadful image to be made, and
kept it secretly within your house, we cannot
tell, nor does it concern us very much to
know. The meaning of the image we know
well, and we know also," said the squire,
with a malicious grin, " to what good use it
can be put Truly it will be a fine thing
to save faggots in the burning of a witch so
worthless."
And the law took its course, and solemn
trial led in. due time to solemn sentence,
and Lanna Tixcl, with the fatal waxen effigy
bound in her armii, was made the core of a
great holiday bonfire, which enlivened the
mhabitants of Blickford. When the wax
caught, the blaze made even babies in their
mothers' arms crow out, and clap their hands
with pleasure.
A brilliant ending to this very pleasant
story of the good old times ! They are quite
gone and never will come back again. And
so, nothing is left for us to do but to regret
their memory, we puny men, we miserable
shams.
AIR MAPS.
In a former number of this work we gun
a short account of the new science of Sub-
marine Geography, by means of which it has
been shown that the great undnlatory beds of
the oceans may be as accurately mapped fiir
all practical purposes of navigation, as are the
mountains and valleys of our own dir earth.
In that paper we dwelt upon the aeop-aca
soundings which had been carried on by the
Government of the United States, and of some
of the more immediate results of the know-
ledge thas acquired.
Current-charts and maps of the hills and
valleys of Old Ocean formed but one portton
of the labours of our persevering brethren
across the Atlantic. A most important fea-
ture in their scientific proceedings was so to
track the winds met with in the navigatka
of the highways of the seas, as to be able to
lay down with tolerable accuracy a compldc
chart of the various currents of the atmo-
sphere in cvcr;^ part of the world, at all tioM
of the year—in short, to construct a hngt
Air Map.
The proceedings of the American Govwn- .
ment since that paper was printed may be
learned by what transpired at a public meet-
ing convened, a short time ago, in the llff-
chants' Room at Lloyd's for the purptw of
receiving a communication from LicuttBUi
Maury of the United States Navy, in refc*
ence to the co-operation of British eos-
mandcrs with those of America in canjif
on a series of atmospheric observations.
Already a knowledge of the hitherto » I
noticed variable winds havo enabled a* I
gators to shorten their voyages to some paiti'
the world by fully one-third of Uie usual tiH
and in a few instances to onc-hal£ In mak-
ing of the growing importance of our ffltr
course with the Australian Colonies, lit*
nant Maury cxpressc>d his belief that ■>
very few years the run to and from Anttflk
from this country would bo accomplisbtdlf
ordin.ory good sailing vessels in one hmM
and forty daj'S, instead of, as at present, i*
hundred and eighty to two hundred daja t
Ls not, therefore, to bo wondered at tW
shipowners, merchants, and marinenii
take a deep interet^t in them. Time ktf
ever been considered as money, and M
this was never more truly the case If
at the pre.sent moment, when electrie kk"
graphs, high-pressure locomotives, udi*
proved screws are doing all that ikdf'
cit\', steam, and iron can do to annM*
space, and bring distint places together, k
thus looking, however, to shortening ^
voyage to and from the other cide of #
globe no new and costly mechanical appGnt'
I
trc ncede«I, no novel motVe power is thought
of, not H new rope is roquircil, not an extm
square yard of canvas is askt-il fur — nil t)iat
is needtd is b lliorough knowledge of the
■winds at sea, fo tliat the navigator tuny, by
avoiding such of them us are adverse to bim,
make use only of tliose which arc in bis
favour.
In so fir ns this practical, «mtter-of-fact
end is arrived at, the man of the world will of
courae feel warmly interested in tlie inquiry.
But the sympathies of the student of science
are not less enlisted on the same side, for he
will by ^uch means gather together many new
and beautiful facts serving to illuslralo the
economy of Nature in some of her grandest
operations. Without a doubt it will bo
through a knowledge of the world of winds
that we shall arrive at an understanding of
many plu-nomena at present but guessed at.
The cniir.se and duration of the air-currents
will exrplnin the fertility or sterility of many
large tracts of country. The direction of the
winds will go far to account fur the luxuriant
growth of particular plants in particular loca-
lities. The winds will be found to be tlie great
ministers of good throughout the surfa«*e of
this globe, carrying on their invisible wings
preciou* gifts yielded np by Ocean to fertilize
and bcoutifv the earth in far distant places,
and by a still wider and higher influence so
to equalise the ever-recurring disturbances
of tc-tiiperalure, moisture, electricity, as to
fit the world for the life and health of the
many species — animal and vegetable — which
exist upon its varied face.
" Fickle ns iho wind " is not an inapt adage,
when opplied to the local character of the
winds. But looking at the general course of
the air-currents over the ocean, if we follow
the many wind-roads which stretch across
the deep, wc shall see that, so for from
possessing any features of instability, the
circulation of the atmosphere about us is
fully as regular and well-defined, as are the
motions of the earth itself and the other
great iKwIies of our system. lu fact, the
windji are a part of that wondrous and bentt-
tiful whole which was called forth when " lie
measured the waters in the hollow of his
tuind, and comprehended the dust in a mea-
sure, and weighed the mountains in scales
and the hills in the balance." Long before
niodem science had told us anything con-
cerning almospherie phenomena, an inspired
•writer promulgated the whole system —
•' The wind goeth towards the .south, and
tumeth about unto the north : it whirleth
about continually, and the wind n-turneth
«g«.in accoriling to hU circuits." This [«asage
>e^ly indicates what has been pa.ssing in
the world of winds since earth was created.
The aberrations of air-currents upon land
arc but tlie eildies and offsets of the great
atmospheric tides caused by geological irregu-
Inritie."!, just as we find dead water and wiiirl-
pools ami 1st the largest rivers.
The winds must no longer be regarded an
types of instability, but rather as ancient and
faithful chroniclers; we have but to consult
them intelligently to gather from them great
natural truths.
In order to learn the course of ocean
currents, investigators have long been in the
habit of casting into the sea, bottles, labelled
and marked, so that on these being found
cast ashore at remote jilaces their course
might be made known to the world. What
man docs with the waters Nature accom-
plishes unasked with the air : she strangely
places tallies and marks upon the wings of
the wind in certain parts of the globe, by
which the philosophers in a distant country
may recognise the same wind, end so trace
it in its path over ocean and over land.
The sirocco, or African dust, which in spring
and autumn has long been observed falling
in the vicinity of the Cape dc Verdes, Malta,
Genoa, Lyons, and the Tyrol, was believed to
have been brought from the great sandy
deserts of Africa by the prevailing winds
coming from that quarter, and the theory
appeared plausible enough. Men of science
were, however, not content to take this
supposition ns it stood, and thanks to re-
cent improvements in the construction of
microscopes, one persevering philosopher,
Ehrenherg, has l)cen enabled to ascertain
the precise nature and consequently the
Original source of this sujiposed African
dust. Ilis examinations have demon.sliiLted
timt this rain-dust does not belong to the
mineral, but to the vegetable king<lom ; that
it consists not of earthy particles finely
divided, but of minute infusoria and organ-
isms whose habitat is not Africa, but South
Atncriov, and that too in the region of the
south-west trade winds. The professor was
not content with examining one specimen ;
he compared the "rain-dust" gathered at
the Cape de Verdes with that collected at
Genoa, Lyons and Malta, and so closely
did they all resemble each other that they
might have been pronounced as taken from
one spot. Xay, more than this, one spe-
cies of infusoria, the ciinotia amphtfoxit, has
often been found in this dust with its green
ovaries, and therefore capable of life. That
this dust could not have conio from Africa
is evident from its hue, which is red or
cinnamon colour, whereas the sands from
the great African deserts are all white oc
greyish,
Ciixrying this inquiry still further wo shall
by its Hieans arrive at a key to the entire
system of atmospheric currents. We have
said that the rain-dust falls in the spring and
autumn : the actual time has been at perio<Ia
of thirty or forty days after the vernal and
autumnal equinoxes. It requires no irgu-
nient to demonstrate that these minuto
imrticle.H of tirganic matter must have been
lifted from the surface of the earth, not
during a rainy season, but at a period whea
I
1
18C
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
IL.
evcrvthing in the rcgctable kingdom was
parciii-d and dr)', and consequently in a fit
condition for being carried aloft and whirled
through the upper realms of air on the wings
of t!ie wind.
If we examine the seasons of the various
parts of the great South American continent,
we shall find that the tract of country which
suflc-rs most severely from the tropical drouplit
at the period of the vernal equinox is the
valley of the lower Oronoco ; which is then
parched and burnt with intense heat Its
pools arc dry, its marshes and plains arid ;
all vegetation has ceased; the great rc])-
tik'S have buried themselves deep in the
sands; the hum of insect life is hushed,
and the stillness of death reigns through the
valley.
In the autumnal equinox wc find a similar
state of tilings in the upper Oronoco and the
great Amasonian basin. It is precisely at
tiicse times that ail vegetable matter is in
the fittest, impalpable, and feather-light
condition for being liflcd up and carried
away, and it is precisely at such periods of
the year that these regions are vi.sited \>y
tcrrinc gales, whirlwinds, and tornadoes;
which, sweeping over their lifeless, death-like
plains and basins, raise up vast clouds of
microscopic organisms and bear them away
with lightning speed to be rained down in
remote countries, chroniclers of tlie great
wind-roads of the world.
It is quite evident from what has been here
ftatod, that for these "organisms" to be
carried from south-west to north-east, imme-
diately opposite to the course of the pre-
vailing surface winds of tliose regions, there
muiit be other upper currents performing
this work. This is the case, and in stating
it to be so, we arrive at a solution of the
whole secret mechanism of the atmosphere:
wc learn how it is that "the wind goeth
towanis the south, and turncth al>out unto
the north."
AVc on shore find" the wind frequently
veering about from point to point of the
coin[ia.ss, often blowing in opposite directions
during a few hours. Not unfrequently we
are visited with strong gales of wind, lasting
fur a day or more, and then followed by
heavy falls of rain and calma Yet such winds,
in comparison with the general system of at-
mospheric circulation, are but eddies of the
iiiaiii cvirrent They have no more efTect
in cliiringing or disturbing that system than
the showers which they bring with them have
ill aUtrinp the course' of the Gulf stream or
olh'T <K;e»m currents.
Let ns see, then, what this general atmo-
rpherii! system is. On either side of the
equator, commencing at a distance of some few
degn-crt from it, we find a sone of peri)etual
winds extending to about thirty degrees north
and south. These blow constantly in similar
dinrrtioiis as steadily and perpetually as the
(idcH of Uie Thames flow and ebb, and ore
called from the directions whence they come the
nortli-ea.<it and south-east trades. These winds
are constantly travelling from the poles, north
and south, to the equator. Their spiral or
curved motion is accounted for by the rotation
of the earth on its axis from west to cof^t. I^
using the language of Lieutenant Maary,
wc imagine a particle of atmosphere at the
north pole, where it is at rest, to be put in
motion in a straight line towards the equator,
we con easily see how this particle of air
coming from the pole, where it did not par-
take of the diurnal motion of the earth, would,
in consequence of its tit inertia, find, as it
travels south, the earth slipping under it, is
it were, from west to east, and thus it weald
appear to be coming from the north-east, and
going towards the south-west : in other wordi,
it would be a north-east wind. A similar
course is followed by the wind coming from
the south pole towards the equator. Nov
as these two winds arc known to be perpe-
tually flowing from the poles, it is quite we
for us to assume that the air which they
keep in motion must return by some channels
to their former places at the poles, othe^
wise these winds would soon exhaust the
polar regions of their atmosphere, utd
piling it up, so to speak, about the equator,
would cease to blow for the want of a fitib
supply of air.
Looking at it in this light it has beta
assumed, and proved almost to a ccrtamtr,
that there exist fiir above these tradc-iriiiai
other and counter currents of air retwaif
to the poles as rapidly as they are flying ftw
it. In short that above the south-east tnit
there is a north-west wind, and aborsfc
north-cast trade a south-west wind peiprit
ally blowing. We have already told hf
Nature has so wonderfully and bctntiN^
placed tallies on the wings of the latter. If
means of the microscopic infusoria raised fHt
the Oronoco and ^Vmazon valleys, and doM
less this first outlining of the new Air Hf
will, in due course, be filled up in other pak j
of the world bv certain indications of Ik
true course of tde upper strata of air Tetat
ing towards the south pole.
Believing that these phenomena aretkat
actually in operation, we will cndean* |{
to show more in detail the course of Ai
" wind roads " of the worlil, ond to do M> If
again making use of Lieutenant Maury*s iO*
tration of a single particle or atom of air,«
representing the entire volume.
AVc will start from the north pole, i
company with our fellow atom, and fcw
we find by some ogency not yet nniff
stood that wc arc travelling southwards k
the ui)per regions of the atmofq>herv, •*
not along the surface of the world, until W '
reach about the parallel of thirty north tf
tude, in the vicinity of the Canary Idani
Here wc meet with a similar snppcsril
particle, travelling also in tho upper at
sphere the return Journey towatds the pih I
Am HAP&
181
I
I
I
I
The two adverse particles press a^s^ninst each
othor with their entire force, and being of
equal power, produce an equilibrium or nccii-
miilation of dead air. This ia the calm bolt
of Caneer.
From under (his belt or bank of calms,
two Miifaoe euirenta of wind are ejected ;
one towards the equator and, irom the cause
nlroady assigned, tjikin^ a south-westerly
coursi; as the north-cast trade wind ; the
olhiT towards tlie pole, as the gouth-west
passage wind. These winds, coming out as
they do at the lower surface of this calm
region, must come from above by mean^ of
downward currents, just as we may supi.io.-ie
a vessel of water filled from (he top by two
slrewnis flowing in from opposite directions
and flowing out from two openings below
in cotiLrary channel,'^. In support of \.\i\»
downward theory of tlio air, wc find the
tcstiraoiiy of Humboldt who tells us (as others
do) tiiat in this calm region, the barometer
Btands higher th:in it does to the north or
south of it
Not the least interesting feature of this jour-
ney of the winds, is the fact that the currents
of air thus forced out from the lower surface
of this calm belt, are not those which were
previously travelling in the contrary direc-
tion : the wind from t\ie pole does not sink
dort-n and return northwards *» a surfitce
wind ; it has yet a long journey before it, a
journey given to it to perform, by infinite
wisdom, for wise and beneficent purposes : it
has yet to go towards the south before it
turneth atjout unto the north. The particle
of nir in company wth which we have tra-
velled thus far, makes its way by some ni3's-
terious agency — bclieveil to be eleolricjil, and
indeeil all but proved to be so by Faniday's
recent discoveries — across this calm xonc, but
at the same time downwards, and ai>pears on
tlie surface going southerly as the north-cast
trade wind : it cannot pass along in the
uppcT sir, for there is another similar particle
wending its way back to the pole, having
perfonned the allotted circuit which this
one fresh from the north is about to
make.
As the north-east trade, our particle jour-
neys until mar the equator, where it en-
counters a siniilar particle as the south-east
trade. Here, at this placf of the equatorial
meeting, there is another conHict and another
calm region, as all those who have made a
voyage to the south know full well. The
consequence of this encounter of the two
typical particles is similar to that which
took place at the calm belt of Cancer, but
is brought aVjout in a ditTetvnt manner.
Till- great heat of the sun near the equator,
adik-d to the presence of the two conflicting
winds one agiuiist the otlier, causes thejn to
ascend, and once more crossing the belt of
calm.o, they make their way still in their
onward course ; the northern particle, with
irhicfa wc will suppose ourselves still La com-
pany, taking an upper coarse, until, arrived
at the 7.ono of Capricorn, between twenty
and tl)irty degrees of south latitude, it en-
counters the southerly breeiea, and this time
descending comes out at the lower sur-
Cice on the opposite side nf the calm region,
and makes its way to the south |iole as a
surface wind. Entering the polar regions
obliquely, it is pressed against by similar
particles coming from every nieridiiin, and as
it approaches the higher latitudes, having
less sjMicc to move in, it flics along more ra-
pidly and more obliquely, until it, with all
Uic rest, is whirled about the pole in a con-
tinued circular gale : at last, reaching the
great polar vortex, pressed up on every side,
it is carried upwards to Uie regions of atmo-
sphere above, whence it commences agnin its
circuit, and journeys back to the north as an
upper current, thus fuUilling its allotted task
of turning about unto the north. It now
passes back over the same space, but this
time its path i.s altered ; where it was before
an upper current it is now a surface wind,
and FiVc Term.
Having thus pictm-cd the winil-roada
across our Air Map, wc will proceed to
point out the reasons fur Ijclicving them
to be the actual paths travelled on day hy
day, from year to year, in the great world
of air.
It will be necessary to biar in mind the
following facts, since they (brni the ground-
work on which our structure of reasoning
will be built. In the northern half of the
globe land grcatl^' predominates over water ;
the southern half of the world being chiefly
occupied by the ocean. Nearly all the gieat
rivers of the world are to 1)C found north
of the equator ; whilst south of the line there
is but oae large stream, the PlaLT, the .Vinazon
being in the eqtmtorinl region and receiving
half iU supply from the riorth and half from
the south. Ill South Africa there is no river
of any nioiuent, and the rivers of Australia
are insignificant.
The main source of supply for the waters of
these rivers is of course to be founil in the
clouds, which furnish it in the shape of rain.
The clouds derive tht ir supply from the ocean,
whence vapour is raised by evaporation. " .411
the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not
full ; unto the place from whence they camo
thither thev return ng-ain." This is precisely
what is taking jilace daily. If the winds
did not lake up from tlie 8C« largo quantities
of vafiour, and store it in the clouds for
distribution when wanted, the sea would " be
full." with all these gigantic streams passing
into it ; vet it is never full.
The fact^ here given appear at first sight
nnomalouK, but on examination they will
be found to spe.-tk in fiivour of the theory
previously adv.inced as to the wind-roads.
The all but riverlcss countries of Si.ulh<rn
Americ:i. South Africa and Australia are
situated in llie midst of the largest expanse
I
I
I
I
of ocean, with surface winds blowing orw
them ihnt liaTc swept the fnco of the
waters for manv ihouiiandg of miles, and
which must at their tciDpcrature he heavily
loaded with vapour. Yet these winds furnish
no supplies of rain sufficient to form any
rivers of magnitude. Those hinds arc almost
rireriess.
On the other hand the winds which blow
over the gigantic rivers of the northern
hemisphere — the mighty stream.** of America,
Kuseia, India and China — have all traversed
but little of ocean, their way from the
equator has chiefly l)efn over dry land,
whence they could raise up little if any
moisture. VVIicnce then is it that countries
with comparatively so little water about
them should rccicve so copiou.sly of rain,
whilst thoso in the very heart of the seas arc
devoid of any such supply ?
To take up surface water and hold it in
suspense tlic air must he at a high tempera-
ture ; to part witii it again m the shape of
rain its temperature must be considerably
lowered. Tlie only winds whichj by reason
of the temperature, can perform this lifting
process, are the Trades on either side of the
equatorial region. In their course over the
vast body of waters, they become highly
charged with vapour. On their meeting at
the zone of cqualurial calms they rise, reach
a cooler atmosphere, and consequently become
expanded and part with some of their mois-
ture; and hence we hear of such extraordinary
falls of rain in thciio regions as that sailors
have actually taken up buckets of fresh water
from the surface of the ocean during one of
these down-pourings. But the winds only
part with a portion of their load ; the south-
cast trade \U\s itself and its lo.id of aqueous
vapour high above the surface, and coursing
on towards the north in the contrary direction
of the north-east trade below, becomes
gradually cooled on its way, and as it cools
parts as gradually with its vapours in the
shape of rain.
In like manner the north-east trade that
rose as an upper current at the ctjuntor to
take its way to the south, performed also its
lofik of evaporation, but to a far less degree.
Coming from the regions of the north, it is a
cold wind, anil therefore not in a condition to
raise up vapour until it be near the equator,
consequently it has but little to precipitate in
the shape of rain, and hence we find the lands
of the south so devoid of rivers. Were it to
l)C otherwise than thus, were the south-east
vapour-loadefi winds to traverse the surface
of tde earth in their northerly career, they
would not part with their moisture where
most Deeded by reason of their high tem-
perature, but would deposit the whole
when arrived in the frigid stone, where least
needed.
Again, if this 80uth-ca.st ivind when it rose
np was turned back in its course, and instead
of passing over to the northern hemisphere
to water the.sc vast regrions of dry earth,
pursued a southerly career, its .stores of rain
would be spent over very small track* of eartii
and over immense regions of water, ft is
clear, therefore, that no other system than that
which it is now believed is the course of the
winds could bo productive of the great
benefits which we receive from them. The
southern hemisphere may hv likene«l to an
enortaous boiler, the northern to a huge
condenser, by means of which all the
moisture in the world is dealt with for
distribution.
The one exception of the Rio de la Plate
to the absence of large rivers in the south,
serves equally to prove the theory. If the
reader will refer to a map of the world,
he wnll perceive that the north-eajit trade-
wind which is lifted at the equator, passea
as an upper current of precipitation over the
sources of the Plata, must have crossed the
equatorial region in about one hundred de-
grees west longitude, and, therefore, having
come from the north-ea.st, must have tra-
versed some thousands of miles across the
Atlantic, and then meeting in its southerly
career with the lofty Andes, become forced
up by them into still higher regions of cold,
draining in its ascent the last djTop of
moisture from those mountains to supply the
solitary river of the south.
In like manner, a reference to the map will
show that the north-cast wind which tra-
verses the great Sahara of central Africa, Is
flung up at the equator, and thence pa^ises
over South Africa in a south-westerly direc-
tion, leaving no rain in that riverles.'? coun-
try. Again, the same trade which sweeps
the sterile, rainless steppes of Chinese Tor-
tary, cro.sses the line to the southward of
Ceylon, and thence takes its vapouricss way
over the great Australian continent, where
also tlierc arc no rivers of any size.
There m a roraftrkablo circumstance con-
nected with whirlwinds at sen, or cyclones
as they arc termed, which goes far to confirm
this theory of our Air Map. In the northern
heinisplicrc, all these circular storms revolve
frotn right to left ; in the s"Ulh they re-
volve from led to right ; and these are pre-
cisely the counws indicated by the present
theory, which the various currents of atmo-
sphere take at the two poles in their return
circuits.
AVe have tlius given the main features of
the great wind-roads of this earth, as laid
down by Lieutenant Maury. There arc,
however, many lesser tracts — small footwayn,
as it were — diverging from the main trunk
roads of the atmosphere, which taking their
course and strength from the varied .surface
of the land follow irregular, mid, ns yet, but
little known directions. It is to these, and
to the cotdirmntion of wimt is already be-
lieved to be the case, that the attention of
nautical observers is winhed to be directed,
fio that, in the coarse of timc^ by the unltwl
^^
ClailMnckRa.1
BAD LUCK AT BENDTGO.
183
efforts of British an4 American navig;atora,
we may be enabled to fill up the many blank
and uncertain spaces in our great Air Map.
GONE I
I HAV* the letter ret, Minnie,
Voo «ctit the very J»v
Timi (f»vo ^ocir first-born to your arms,
Ad"J I "Oil far RWny.
I Miv iliniii^h e»cry Iruinbling line
1 -; wu» the boy.
U-. ,lio"k the wc»kenel h»nJ
'i ^ ;jj wiali me joy.
Of all thv mottier's little one*,
The pUylhinp »ii<i the pot,
Poor eliildren, lovingly tbey oomo
To rock the omille yet ;
An<J, knowing tiol how sound Wa fleep,
All »rU to w«ko bun try.
Alas ! from so much love, Minnie,
To think tUitt ho bhould itie 1
L«ok at the «mall pure himd, Minnie,
So molionleMi in mine,
I n-eJ In let It, (toft ami warm,
Ab-^iit my rt'i^fr rwine.
Ar " '.Mrt
1,
It' - v lllUld
TiU uiy liiuid loo id uulJ.
Onr bridal di\y ; thM snmmor day !
Do»t. thon remember now I
Jo' ' ' ' » were iinHullicd tUon
>. 'lit thy brow,
Til 1 have my fnir bride still J
Au'J, i y tliT loving Rve,
Thou wouMkI not irivo iiu up, Minnie,
£°eu tluit ho mi^lit not dio.
A Heaven of «cfcty and repoM ;
Ah I should we wi»h him bark
From its clear light! and tliornloaa flowers
T ! ''".i'« dunty track.
T 1 radiant little one
1-1 by-und-bve.
Au.l yd ihut lie should i\e, Minnie —
Alas, that he should die !
BAD LUCK AT BENDIGO.
Arrtth) ftt Melbourne on the nineteenth
of September, I took an early opportunity
of disitributing my pile of letters of intro-
duction. Pound, that although addressed
by influential people to influential people,
they were altogether valueless. Influential
fricnd.s in England wore at that time showing
no mercy to the Melbourne people, \vh<t
received a great many more draughts upon
their courteay than it was possible for thctn
to honour.
I agreed then to join a party of my fellow
paiwengcrs, and try fortune's temper witli
them at the di);j;ing& All the tool.s and im-
plements which my new friends had brought
from London being buried at the bottom of
the ship's hold, we were told that some days
must elapse liefore they could be disinterred.
As for myself, I had taken out only a knap-
sack and a sea chest. If I ever were to make
the trip again I should take only a knap-
sack. Not meaning to bo detained for an in-
definite time we resolved, bold Layardi? that
we were, to institute some excavations on our
own account We set to work therefore at
once, and had no lack of curious discoveries.
Barrels of flotir, casks of stout, bags of sugar,
bates of slops, butt of water, bundlt-s of
spades, we dragged and hauled about,
meeting with a little of everything except
the things we wanted. After lighting an
unlawful lantern, and exploring all the
crannies, wc at last saw, at the bottom of a
well du» through the other merchandize, a
cart Wc hoped it was our own, and after
several hours' lalwur, during which we moved,
among other articles, a grand piano in a
case, wc came down cleverly upon it "Just
you let that air cart alone, will you ?" Truly
we had no right to touch it, for it was not
ours. More hours' labour, and at last wo
got our property together ; ours, because' I
ha/1 bought ray share in it The cart had
been brought out, in the innocent belief that
horses were to be bought at about fifteen
pounds each. The price of a horse wo found
was about seventy pounds. One wc learnt
also would not be enough ; two would bo
required, and they would very likely be both
stolen before the week was out Tools of all
kinds which wc had brought from t^ie other
end of the world were to be bought at the
diggings, from men leaving, at a trifle less
than the common London price. Nobody
carried picks and shovels out from Mclhourno
with him. The best thing we could do we
did ; put cTerything into a sale, and so got
rid of a!l cncuinlirance.
The only thing we did not sell, of all our
London importations, was a tent, which we
proposed sending to the diggings by a carrier.
After a search through the town which cost
us a whole day, we at last found a carrier
starting to Bendigo — our destination — who
for the moderate sum of eight gtiinea.'s en-
gaged to take charge of our gold-diggers'
home.
The next mnrning wo were up betimes,
h.id an early breakfast, and equipped our-
selves in mnrcliiiig ordtT. Rich ofus strapped
on a belt, containing a revolver, an axe, and
a knife ; each carried on his shoulders a knap-
sack and blanket, and slung by his side a
havrcsaok with hrend, meat, and a can for
water. Sii furnished, otf we started. The
transition frotn town to bush is very abrupt,
and in a few niiiiules we seemed to have
passed all traces of civilisation. We halted
at middny, and dined. After an hour's rest
strapped on our "swag" again and went our
way. .M simset we found ourselves in
a rough-looking country, abounding witli
volcanic boulders, and very scant of trees.
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184
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
fCaBiatrnttt
Tlicrc was a clump of them to be seen on our
right, and as a supply of wood is very neces-
sary for judicious camping, we selected that
clump as our lodging for the night. On reach-
ing it wc found it to be located upon very
swampy land, and promising a bed infested
witli a new kind of jumper — not with fleas,
l>ut frogs. Frogs were hopping about there
by tens of thousands.
V/'c had not yet been broken in to all that
."sort of thing ; we minded frogs, and therefore
I suggested that we should be careful to pick
out the highest and the drye.st spot Wc
did so, and then having thrown the knap-
sacks from our aching shoulders, cut down
wood with our axes and kindled a bonRre,
which we set to roar again.st the trunk of a
fine tree. Thereupon wc made ourselves
some tea in our tin pots, and .oat down upon
our knapsacks to a hearty supper. While
munching we were accosted by three horse-
men, stock farmers, on their way home.
They cheered us with the information that
if we were bound for Bcndigo wc were not
on the right track, at the same time pointing
out Mount Macedon in the distance (a hint
afterwards important to us), by which they
said the road wound ; then wishing us luck
they rode off.
To have gone astray in the wood like the fa-
mous babies was no great luck, but it consoled
us that we could be savage ; London savages.
We took to forest life, as boys to cricket
I'irst, we cut down about a cart-load of wood
and built it into a heap near the Are, for iise
as fuel. Then, with the bushy ends of the
branches, wc formed about ourselves a sort
of hedge to keep the wind off. Within our
enclosure we arranged that each should
watch in turn for two hours during the
nijrht; that is to say, from eight o'clock till
daybrmk. I lay down on the ground, head
on knapsack, hand to pistol, feet to fire, and
in three minutes was sound asleep. At two
o'clock I was roused to take my watch, and
found the stock of wood exhausted and the
fire low ; so I took my axe, and kept myself
awake by hacking away at the trees in the
dark — a good savage amusement — splashing
about, ancle deep in water, because I could
not see to pick mv steps. There is a wild
cliarm after all about a night bivouac, of
which a man must be a dullard if he is not
sensible. I grew to like it But for the
s<and.il I should now be glad to quit mv
house m Cambcrwell of night.s, and go to
U'd by a bonfire set alight under the lamp-
^1 used never to tire of watching the
post.
Jitful flame tliat cml)race.l the tree, against
which It was alw.ays kindled, killing it with
kisses ; of the dimly defined trunks that
fonned our chamber wall, and against which
hung our liavresacks; of the wild firelit
figures of the sleepers, with their arms in
readiness; and of the silence, broken only
by the wind that moaned in the dim for-
est So wc enjoyed our first night in the
li v»i. ao y/c enjoyea our first
bush. At daybreak I aroused our party;
and, after * refreshing wash in the next pud
die, we had breakfast, and resumed om
journey.
Noonday halt and evening camp Tore tha
same for several days. Our route lay through
a picturesque country, with many Ngns of
volcanic origin. On the evening of the fourth
day we camped at the bottom of a dell, by
the side of a pleasant running stream,
among enormous fragments of volcanic stone.
Towards the middle of the night it rained
heavily. Tho rain awoke mc, but as it
could not be turned off by any tan T knew
of, I lay still. After a short time I heanl a
low conversation between two of my com-
panions. They were uncomfortable. Veiy
much so. They did not like it Our meat
was all gone, and nothing remained but a
few biscuits. When they also wore pone we
might be star%eil to death. Goaidod by
such horrible thoughts I heard thoin con-
spiring how they would return to Melbourne.
Day broke ; and during brcakGist (which con-
sisted of a biscuit each) they broached to me
their ]>lot I a.sked them. Did they want to
go back for umbrellas? As for provisioiH,
it was certain that we must soon come upoo
some flocks of sheep, when wc could buy odc
and eat it Finally, I declared that I meuit
to go on, that I was willing to wait two honn
in our camp while they tried about for
mutton ; but if they did not, by the end
of that time, return to inc, I should go oo
alone. I had — each of us had — three bis-
cuits ; I would put myself upon a bisodt t
day ; and there was no fear but that wittun
three days I should meet with sometiiiag
eatable.
They consented to this plan, and off thef
went When tho two hours were fully vf,
I climbed on to the highest boulder for i
parting look after my coinrndcs, and tutdd ;
that I saw them in tho distance ; fired nr
pistol, and was answered by anoUier. I tha
waited. They came back unsuccessful, raj ;
sulky ; moreover, they had been scunilf
used. Seeing a man at a distance tliey hii
gone up to him to ask for food, when br
savagely presented a pistol, threatening ••
shoot them if they did not keep their distucc-
The stranger had no food to spare fbr thca^
and did not know where tlicy could get any.
Now, it happened that during the abaenoe of
my friends I had been thinking, and had can
to the resolve, that if compcllmi to tninl Iff
myself, I would abandon the tracks, wW*
are the marks left by the carts going to d(
diggings. These tracks often 1»fad tbT
circuitously to avoid the hills; and I «iw«i
reason why, guided by a pocket compw •*
an excellent map of the colony that I ^^
with me, I should not try for a Mraiglit rf
across the country. Mount Macedon, >
known point, was visililo in the distance, •*
I calculated that if I crossed the chdnrf
mountains, of which Macedon forms par^k
t
■ N.N. W. dii«ction, I shoald save many milM
of journey. All this I stated to my comrudcs ;
and, an<-T much disicussion, it was agriMhl that
wc would try the »dvenltiro of a dash into
the pathless country.
So wo did ; and, after crosiring solitary
plain.'i, arrival by night nt hills covorxd with
dense wood. \Vc supped upon half a biscuit
each, and in the niorninj bn!akfa.sted upon
the other half Then, with angry stomachs,
we rt'siiincdourmarch. It would be difHcuIt
to convcj' an idea of the intcn»e lahonr and
fotigue we next experienced For nsiles after
miles our course lay across mountains heavily
timbered, overwovcn with thick tang;lo<i
underwood. Of level open ground there
WU3 litenlly not an acre ; the base of one
mountain joine<l to the bas« of the next, with
a quagmire always at the point of junction.
At the top of each mountiiin, as well as at
the bottom, the compaiss was referred to, and
there were bearings taken. Mountain after
mountain we had scaled, frequently obliged
to cling with both our liands, and pause to
pant for breath at every few step.4. How
often, on arriving at the summit of mmc
beigbt, we looked eagerly forward, hoping to
sec an expanse of clear, level pround ! But
no, there was ever another mighty barricade
to climb over, and our limbs ached and our
stomachs himgered at the sight
Once through an opening in the forest, I
caught sight of Mount Macedon, and calling
my companions pointed it out to them. On
examining the compass we found that our
course wa.s exactly true. By that discovery
they got a little confidence.
\Ve bail been, for a long time, forcing our
way tlirough the tangled underwood to the
top of one particular mountain which, from
the ble««:.hed skeleton of a sheep that we found
on the top, I claimed ray right, as a pioneer,
to call Mount Skeleton. When we did reach
the lop of that mount we were utterly e.v-
Kku.ttt.'d, and for some time totally unable to
t any farther. Flinging ourselves on our
ir' -ri;! for breath, and all of us black
I ^ m contnct with the trunks of the
C'- >, "lo. .. lied by bush fires) wo were too
tired to speak or stir, and lay stretched out
as motiotdcss as though we ourselves had
been, or were about to become skeletons.
Flocks of brightly coloured birds danced in
the air about us, screaming, perhaps a wake ;
and the laughing jaguar (commonly calle<i
ja<'ka.>«) witli his loud Ha, ha, hal seemed to
corLsidcr our predicament the happictjt of
joke.s.
Suddenly a report was heard, quickly
followed by anotner, and another. Some-
thing mortil that way came. PWgetfiil of
latigue up wc started, and made olf in the
direction of (he sound. Down the iSdoof the
mountain we went, plunging through the
underwood, heedless of pain, and came at fast
upon a Ktockman driving a team of bullocks.
He told us titat we could get meat, flour, and
other necessaries, at a station a few miles
further on ; that we were right for Brii'ligo,
and had saved twenty miles by oiirshoit i-iii.
So, bidding him good day, we pushed on for
the station, There we told the ownrr what
we wanted, and he led us int. ' h,
wooden building like an K it
iustea<l of i-orn in it, there «iie < .■iiiii"imies
of all kinds ; the place was a gt neral store.
The farmers in the interior, when they sell
their wool, lay in at such places a suJBcient
stock of everything thev arc likely to want
for a year. We each bought flour and a
quarter of mutton. That is the smallest
quantity sold; and, during the heat of the
Australian summer, it is gi'neniHy halfthrown
away, for it becomes covered with maggot- u
few hours after it is killed. Ours was ;i hot
summer experience, and I may state gunt.r.<illy
that we were obliged to eat our meat cither
before the warmth of life was out of it,
or else with more life in it than might
Ive palatable to anybody nice about iiis
dinner.
Nest d.iy wo resumed our journey, which
still lay through forest. In a few hours we
camo upon an extensive encampment, and
found that it was composed of some sixty
emigrants on the way to the diggings. They
complained sadly of the difficulty they had in
6nding enough food for so many ; had no
compass among them, and had lost their way
repeatedly since they first CJ»mo into the
wo<m1. It was the famous Black Forest, in
which, as we journeyed on, we passed several
other parties going up to Bendigo, It was
wretcheil work for horses there, and bullorks;
numbers of them lay like camels in the
desert, dead by the roadside. The tracks
were ploughed up to the very axles. Fre-
quently a dray would be bogged, and it
would be the work of sixteen oxen fa.stened
on to extricate it At other times the road
on a hill side was so shelving, that there
were ropes fastened to one side of the
dray, and held by men, to prevent an over-
turn.
We had been eleven days in the Black
Forest, and were growing tired of its scorched
trunks. It is a notorious place for bu.sh-
rangers, who come and go with a strange
suddenness, Of this we had an instance. We
had halted at miil-dav, and were deep in the
mysteries of cooking, when a horse's head
was laid afTectionately on my shoulder. I
felt for my pistol, and turning round, faced a
bold horsenmn, 4iuite of the Claiule du Val
school, lie was mounted on a blood marc,
wore long riding boots of polished enamelled
leather, had a Colt's revolver in his belt,
nnothcr pair in his holsters, and a gr^'tn veil
hanging from his broad stra>v hat Tlio long
lash of a harulsoincly inounted stock whip naa
coiled elegantly in hts hnntl. Probably he
came to reconnoitre; but as ho found us
too well anned for his [uirpose, ho simply
nskecl the usual qucslioD, " Had we seen an/
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186
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
1
bullocks :" to whicli we replied No, and asked
in return where we could buy meat He di-
n>cted us to a station and rode ofT. Not one
of our party liaJ seen his approach until he
was close upon us. Had we not been well
amied (we took care to let him satisfy his
mind on that point;, we should certainly hare
bi-in attacked.
Then we had an odd parody upon shopping
in the bush. We saw by public advertise-
ment upon a paper, nailed against a tree,
like the boots of Bombastcs, tiiat meat and
flour were to be sold hard by. The place in-
dicated was a station, situated on a gently
rising ground, around which ran a clear
stream. As there was no bridge to be seen,
I Tdiintcered to leap across the water, and
bring back supplies for all our party. So I
did. The building, when I reached it, proved
to be of the rudest kind. The walls were of
hewn plank.s, clumsily nailed together, having
crevices between them wide enough to let
the hand through ; the floor was of beaten
clay. There were no flowers planted there,
and no attempt whatever had been made to
give an air of comfort to the place. Yet I
learned that the owner and his family had
been residing in that shed for sixteen years.
I went with the dair}--woman to an outhouse
for provisions. She was very independent,
and on my politely expressing a preference
for another joint instead of the one she
wished to sell, I was told that there was
my beef, and that I might take it, or leave it,
she did not care which. A coarse Joint being
better than no meat, I decided of course to
take it, and also bought some flour, paying
sixpence for the pound of each. I ai»ked
whether tliore was not a bridge by which I
couM return ; slie said there was a small one
on the other side for their own use, but that
it would not suit them to build bridges for
Btran<^-rs. I was glad to leave the scornful
lady and return to my companions ; but they,
durint; uiy absence, had been walking on by
the side of the stream. I shouted to them
and they stopped ; but when I came up loaded
with my meat and flour, I found the stream
between us rather more than could be taken
at a leap; the only way of crossing for a
strancrer was to wade through it So I put
down the flour upon the grass, and walked
into the little river, meat in hand. The
water rose to my chest, but I soon cros.*ed,
and handini; up the meat went back to fetch
the tiour, which aljio was brought over safely.
Now. I think a little competition would have
rubbed the rust off those uncivil shopkeepers.
And who know.i that there mav not be a
Tcry Oxfonl Street of shops fifty years hence,
across that hill; f»>r we wore 'there getting
to the verge of the Black Forest, and soon
»ftcr quittmg it, the country bei-amo more
open, and we met more travellers. Tents
for the Bale of provisions, were set up at short
int«rTals, and all fears upon the score of
provonder were at rest On the last night's
' camp, before entering Bcndigo, I felt a desire
to wash the linen frock and trousers which I
I had worn during the journey, for I had
noticed what appeared to be a nice pool of
water close at hand. I look, therefore, my
^ piece of soap, put on my other suit of clothes
out of my knapsack, and set ofl; Down went
" my wash " beneath the crystal surface ; bat
oh ! woe was me when it came up again, con-
verted into a thick lump of green slima
Rinse it off I could not, for the whole pool
was a fraud, a trick of Nature played on
the unwary traveller. The top of the water
was indeed clear, but underneath it was a
museum of aquatic botany. Naturally dis-
concerted, I set to work with my knife to
scrape ofl* the mass of specimens that I had
thus collected, and next morning had to
squeeze the clothes into my knapsack, streaky,
smeary, and damp, a lump of linen most
ridiculous and lamentable.
After we had been fourteen days on tba
journey through the wood as aforesaid, «e
reached Bcndigo. Pits, tents, and people
gradually became numerous. On each sid«
of the dusty path the earth was turned ap, <
and there were miners at work; stores «
goods were exposed for sale. We inquirad i
our way to the Commissioner's camp, in order J
that we might be ready to get our liccnoH m |
the morning, for we had no mind to kie '
time, and having taken up a satisfactory posi- l!
tion, flung ofiT our loads like pilgrims, with T
our progress ended, and so camped at kit !*
within our golden city.
In the morning our first care was to wk
the tent of which the carrier had tikn
charge. We could not find it ; wc never Si
find it The carrier had taken our dg^
guineas, and remained charged with the tout
into the bargain. He would not burden ni
again with it, g-x>d man. We also lo^el
about for sccond-h^nd tools, and of these m
found that there were plenty to be had,il
reasonable pricef:. Having ntadc our p(n>-
chase.<, and taken out our liccnccst, we wtot
back to our location, voting ourselves worthf
of a holida}- for the remainder of the dij.
That over we set to work, and dug ioor
holes. After delving down to a depth d
about six feet, the water came into our bok^
and wc came out of them. We found thists
be a common accident, numbers of pits bong
rendered useless by the underground {>priiia
Shifting our operations wc sunk four hoM
more, and were bu.-sy in them for some daji
The ground was obstinately hard, being •
burnt clay, and every shovel full of earthw
wo threw out could be thrown out only ate
it had been loosened by the pickaxe. V*
ha<l built a hut of boughs to snield us fitn
the mid-day sun ; the days were very bo^
but the nights dreadfully cold. One n'q^
while wc were asleep a heavy rain set io,
which la.<ted until morning. The boughi^of
course, aflbnlcd no protection ; we and out
blankets were soon dripping wet ; the canf
I
»
fire was i-st!ngui.shcd, and the ground around
us ft eoraplL'te )uke district. If there was
nnytliiiig that my companions particularly
hated it was rain, for tiiuir umbrellas were
unfortunately lefl in London. It occurred to
me that our best course was to build a hut
which should be quite as sound as an uni-
brelliu This was proposed and agreed to;
\vc aiTanged to work at the pits and the hut
alternately. AVe had by that time come to
the bottom of one pit about twenty feet deep,
without getting anything more satisfiictory
out of it, than if we Imd gone out to dig on
Putney Common. Tlicrcfore we set to work
on fre.*h holes.
After a time we wanted flour, and one
evening, after our day's work was finished, I,
and another of our party went to purchase it.
Knowing how quickly darkness succeeds
sunset there, we walked a5» fast as wo eould
to the store, which was about two miles dis-
tant Having made our purchases, we
returned, Vnit were soon unable to see the
path. The light had faded into darkness, and
the intricacy of so many paths as there were
ivinding among the escavntion.s, puzzled us
conipiindy. To make matters worse, we did
not know how to de,*cribe the position of our
cainji. The nearest known point wn-s the
Coinmi.ssioner's station, and our hut was a
niite distant from it. \V'y ccrtiiiily could lie
down where we were, and wait until morning,
but JUS we could not camp down profierly, for
want of blankets, iixo and matches, we did
not like the option.
After spending some time over experimental
ti ips, we spied a cnmp lire, and went up to it
to ask of the inmales, at any rate, could they
be so kind as to tell us the way to the Com-
missioner's? On our approach two bull-dogs,
chained to a stake, sprang forward and almost
cholced themselves in their attempt to get at
us. They were Lendigo watchmen. I Knew
an unfortunate man out late at night, who,
passing on liis way between two tents, wa.>4
seized by the dogs belonging to them, and h:id
his flesh nearl}' torn from his bones before he
was rc3C\ied. Well, when we had told our
Btory, a man very kindly said that he would
go with us himsvlf, and show us the vviiy on ;
just as he might have done in London.
Setting out again at a sharp pace, he led us
along a path, still winding betwetn deep pits
liiat were dug on cither side. I was congra-
tulating niy.self on our escape from a great
risk of being lost among tlieui, when, stepping
on wlint appeared to b« dry, level ground, 1
sank down, in an instant, to my chest As I
was altogether vanishing I shouted out, and
our conductor, turning rountl, had time to
catch my hand. Tliera was no time lost, and
I was just straggling out, as my companion,
who followed clo.seiy at my heels, went in
behind me. We pulled him also out, and
although it was but a dirty joke, we could
not help laughing at our own condition. Wc
were both enc&scd in a thick coating of wet
clay, nearly up to our necks ; for we had sunk
into a worked out hole, which had been filled
up with the wet refuse of other pi(.s. Wc
had become a |>oir of plaster images, and onlv
wanted an Italian boy to put us on & board,
and sell us as Greek slaves.
In a few minutes more wc came to the
Commissioner's, and our guido repenting his
regret for our misfortune took his leave. Lefl
to ourselves, wc again tried to find the way
to our hut, crossing and rccrossing in diflerent
directions. At last, when it was nearly mid-
night, we gave up our search as hopeless. But
what could we do? We could not lie down in
night-dresses of wet clay, ond wc could light
no fire. I propo.«ed that we should go to the
police camp at the Commissioner's, and ask
leave to lie down by the tire there until
morning. The suggestion was approved, and,
a.sccndin^ the hill on which their watch-tires
blazed, we considerably surprised the police
force by the extraordinary appearance of two
plaster casts in scorch of a betl. Ix-ave to
rest was of course readily granted, but there
was no Bparo blanket or horsecloth with
which we poor images might cover ourselves,
We lay down by the fires, cold to the bones,
or the wires, if wo were really costs. Then
one of the sentinels (a good fellow), with an
outh declaring that he could not seo men in
such a state, took off his great-co&t and placed
it at our disposal. We thanked him heartily,
stripped off our wet clothes, and covered our-
selves over with it.
In spite of my fatigue I could not sleep :
sometimes the wind would come rushing and
eddying, now driving the flame almost over us,
and the next minute taking all the warmth
out of our marrow. The scene around, too,
was verj- novel and exciting to the fancy. Out
of the wall of gloom, beyond the glare of the
fire, till military figures, well-armed, came
ond went, frequently stopping to examine us
— ad if they thought of buying us — with some
degree of curiiwity. At half-hour intervals,
a sentinel clos« to our cars called out in a
loud voice, " Number one — all's welll" which
was immediately answered from a distant spot,
by " Number two — all's well I" Then Number
three, RTid, lastly, Number four vouched fur
the well-being of their respective posts. And
so that long night pa.sscd. At the first dawn of
morning I jumped up, and as the plaster on
my clothes had set quite hard, I began hanging
tliem upon a log close by. This knocked it
off, and knocked up my companion, who soon
followed my example. A fine cloud wo raised
together, in which wc were both concealed,
as though wc had been really heathen goils,
Cupids or Apollos made of other stufT than
plaster. Before leaving, wo each offered to
the goo<l-naturcd sentinel some money as a
return for his kindness, but he positively
refused it, nor could wo prevail upon hira to
accept anything more than a hearty shake of
thi; hand, as we bade him a cordial good-
bye. With the light came a release from our
A
138
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
£
ditlic-ullies, and in a quarter of an hour wc
n-gaincd our own abode.
Uur hut then occupied the whole of our
spare time. The framework was composed
of the trunks of trees, which we felled, and
lopped, and fixed in the earth, fitted with ridge
poles and rafters, and across which we
stretched a tarpaulin. The sides were filled
in with turf sods, set in wet claj-. There
only remained the two ends to complete. At
this stage of our career mj coin]ianions be-
cnme disheartened. Tlierc was no success
in digging. The work was verj severe,
tlic discomfort was excessive, and we had to
support ourselves entirely with the money we
had brought out with us : the prices of all
kinds of food (and that none of the choicest)
being enormous. At la.st one of our men de-
clared his intention of abandoning titf diggings
altogether. He should go back to Melbourne.
Off he went A few days more of hard work,
and no pa}', ate up the patience of the other
two, and they also departed, urging me very
much to go with them. I steadily refused,
because I had determined to give my under-
taking a fair three months' trial.
Left alone with my own thoughts at the
other side of tlic world, I was amu.ted, and
perhaps now and then touched by the aspect
of shiftlessness and incompleteness that
belongs to a community, consisting almost
wholly of men. I was standing one day in
tlic forest talking to some men, whose beanls
ot'iiiany month.s' growth, bronzed complexions,
ami rough dress, gave them a savage ap-
piarancc, when, suddenly, a lady on horsc-
biick (probably the wife of the Conmiissioner),
followed by a servant, appeared. All conver-
sation instantly ceased, and we followed her
with our eyes until the last flutter of her
riding habit was lost amongst the trees. On
her disappearance one of the men, with a
deep gasp, as if he had not breathed for the
last few minutes, exclaimed, " Ah, a sight like
that does a man good."
1 was left quite alone, but even that did
not discourage me, as I considered that if the
toil was greater, so also might be the reward.
I continued at work as before ; but, although
I found gold, it was in such small quantities,
that, as an Irishman said, it would take a
ton of it to weigh a pound. One evening,
soon after my companions had left, I went to
the store to buy a camp oven, which I brought
home with me. It was very ru.sty, l)ut I
thought it would bake none the worse for
th.it After washing myself I went to bed.
In about an hour the palm of my lift hand
(which was covered with broken >)lister.s
from the constant use of the axe) began to
ache very much; the pain increased fast,
anil in the morning mv hand was veiy much
swollen. From bad, it rapidly increased to
worse, and at the end of the week my hand
and arm run together into one unsightly
mass. The rust had acted on my blisterei^
fingers The pain was agonismg, it allowed
mc no rest day or night Not only was I
unable to work, but I could scarcely dress
myself, or cook. The slightest movement
gave mo increased pain. At the end of t
fortnight the inflammation came to a head,
and no less than five openings formed ; four
in my arm, one in the palm of my hand.
Tho.sc who hare never been in Australia can
form no idea how rapidly under its hot sun
inflammation advances. Since I had no one
to bring me the least help, the fever became
aggravated. Sometimes I was nervously at
work for three quarters of an hour trying to
get a fire, sitting on a log and blowing it
with one hand, whilst the pain in the oUier
was distracting me. Then perhaps, just as I
thought that I had coaxed a few sparks into
action, a great gust of wind rushed in from
the unfinished end of my hut, killed them
entirely, and dispersed their ashes. I knor
what utter desolation is, since I hare tai>tcd
illness thus alone in the backwoods. Scarcely
able to dress myself (indeed I was obliged t\tr
several nights to lie down in my clothes,
being unable to get tt^i.'m off), and quite
deprived of power to use ny axe, I could but
make a fire with the small sticks blown dowa
from the trees, which T gleaned from tl»
ground, wandering about Mke an old iromii j
for the purpose. Throi gh the open ends of I
my hut, clouds of dust amc whirling. Ill
commonest necess-ivy I had to fetch fbr my-
self, however high the fcvei, from a distance;
and the water, which it cost mc much traoUi
to procure, was of the colour of pea-sonpi I
was obliged to drink it, and also to ok it
with my tea. All that I could do for mji^
as a physician, was to apply bread ponncei
(requiring for the purpose one half-quaitai
loaf three times a day, at a daily expos
for the three loaves of scvcn-and-sixpcgctji
together with warm fomentations. Oit
night I lay down as usual, having batbi
my wounds, applied fresh poultices, cka
bandages, and finally wrapped a clean b^
chief over all. Next morning at daybniki
took off the bandages, and who cannot natt
stand my horror on perceiving that it
wound in my palm was alive witn magpn
Some one of the blowflies, of which there wn
millions about, had during the night crnt'
through the linen folds and done the misd^
I remnincd for a few moments stupifiei '
the sight — ahno.st cast down into com;]*
despair. Oh for a familiar hand or voice i
that moment ! However, the necessity t*
exertion soon made itself felt, and hasten^
my fire to boil the water, I sat down oa>
log, penknife in hand, and cut the mi{ti*
out ; then I fomented the whole wound wii
boiling water. Happily I succeeded in Ai
work of extirpation. 1 was ai^id hcttk
coiTuption might have penetrated to Ai
bone, in w^hich case I shonid have attcnp'
the amputation of my hand, for travw
to Melbourne in any such condition wtfi*
possible.
eiMlMWnlWM.l
TUE GIPSY SLAVES OF WALLACHIA.
189
For 6ix weeks I t«d this life, which would
have tried Robinson Crusoe ; confined to my
hut, except when I was obliged to go om to
pui"chnae nocessaries, counting the Bight of
time by the course of the sun by day, mid of
the moon by night. I dared not leave to go
do^vn to SLclbournc, as my wounds rctiuired
incessant care, and water was not alwaj-s to
be had upon the joumoy. I dreadi^i mortid-
cation, but at lost the wounds closed. I
resumed the spade, but found my hand un-
able to sustain the shock of digging. I then
determined to quit Bendigo. Disposing of all
my tools for lialf the amount they co-st me, 1
packed Up ray knapsack, sewed my money
under my arms, tilled my havresack with
bread and uieat, and so bode iitrcwcll lo the
golden soil.
It was most necessary that no time should
be lost on the journey, as if I had any relapse
upon the road I should bo worse off than
ever. I was of course very much weakened
and reduced. My face, which, two monlh.s
before, had bccomo copper-coloured from the
exposure to the sun and air, was almost
white. Loaded with the impediments essen-
tial to bush travel, I Kt:irU>d on Tuesday
at noon, and camped outside Melbourne ou
Fridiiy night, having walked in three days
and a half one hundred and thirty miles, of
whicli the greatest part lay through hilly
and forest country. I completely wore down
both my shoes and stockings lo the ground.
Several times I was obliged to stop, when I
found a stream, and wash my feet, which
were very painful, and became encased with
dirt and blood. A pair of socks, that I
bought at a store in the way, were cut to
pieces by the end of the day because my
shoes attbrded them no shelter. At one
time during my journey I had to rub on fyr
twenty-four hours without tasting food. I
had taken the wrong track in the Black
Forest, and so missed the bush inn where I
had hoped to replenish; and having finished
my last biscuit on Thursday morning, it was
not until two o'clock on Friday that I ate
anything more.
After getting into Melbourne, I spent
nearly a whole day in hunting through the
town to get a lodging. What I at last did get
was a room containing nothing but a bare
mattrass, a cane chair, and an empty hvx for
table. For the use of all this, and food, I
was to pay two pounds a-wcck. Money would
scarcely purchase vegetables or fruit, of which
I was in great need. My landlady sent all
over the town to get me a cabbage for my
dirmcr, but not one could be procured for any
price. The governors of the hospital at that
time were indeed advertising for some one to
contribute a few cabbages for the poor
patients. The diggers' diet prevailed very
much, perforce, m Mellwumc : mutton,
damper and tea. The miserable accommo-
dation I have just described was in a few
days taknn from me, the owner wanting
the room for himself ; so I then camped in
Canyas town until I finally returned to
England.
THE GIPSY SLAVES OP WALLACHIA.
All travellers who have journeyed from
Zcmlitza on the Danube to Bucharest, agree
in painting the country they are obliged to
traverse in the most sombre colours. Once
out of sight of the lines of trees that border
the Danube, you enter upon an interminable
dismal plane, with a level horizon that sur-
rounds you like a circle, of which you are
ever the centre. There are no objects behind,
to mark your progress by their gradual
disappearance ; there is nothing ahead, to
encourage you on ; no mountains of blue
riuing higher and higher, becoming substantial
as you advance, breaking up tbyir long lino
into peaks and valleys bristling with cr.igs or
clothed in forest. If you would know that
you are in motion, you must look upon the
ground beneath your feet and .see the pebbles
and plants pass slowly backwards as j'our
waggon moves sleepily on, or whirl dimly by
as the knroutchor pursues its mad can-er. In
winter time, an additional dreariness is given
to this desert by the aVjsence of the sun, which
is hidden from view by one vast cloud sta'tch-
ing from horizon to horizon, low down, so
as almost to resemble a mist just rLsen from
the earth. Here and there, a few slight
elevations, a foot or two high, indic:ite the
presence of an underground village. At
various distances, tall poles rise into the
air, marking the positions of wells, around
which the sky is speckled by flights of
crows and vultures. Now and then you
meet parties of pea-sants clothed in sheepskin,
and wearing prodigious moustachios, wander-
ing across the level. At night the only
sound is the wind whistling through the low
bushes, occasionally bringing to the car thd
reports of a volley of musketry Qred by some
party of travellers who amuse themselves in
this martial way.
It is not uncommon in crossing these gad
plains to come upon groups of wild-looking
individuals, black as Ethiopians, scantily
covered by old rags, stepping jauntily out,
waving their arms, noilding their heads,
rattling fragments of songs, and clattering
together as they go the blacksmith's tools
which they bear upon their backs. Further
on, perhaps^ when night ha.s fallen, an hour
or two after these odd-looking people have
gone ahead of your waggon (they take two
strides for one of your oxon) ihc ground
ahead will probably become spangled as with
glovr-wornis ; and presently a sort of whirl-
wind of strange .sounds, half song, halfsliout,
will be borne by the night breeze, to mingle
with the buzz of your own c.irsvan, and the
creaking of llio wheels. You have come upon
a village, an encampment, a burrow of pipty
troglodytes (dwellers in caves), who are eitaor
I
I
■
140
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[Oia4ivM t}
I
h
sitting around tho remains of the fires they
linve liglitcd to Cfxtk their evening meal, or,
with open floors or Imps, hy tlic light of n
Cftndlc stuck in the groun'i, ari' engngcl in
smoking red clay or cherry-v»-0Q<.l pipts, Bind
drinking tho hsrsh wine of thu country.
These people arc of the most humble and
mo-st unfortunate section of the Wallaohiiin
people, the Zigans, who of old formed » flour-
ishing little state, paying; tribute to the Greek
empire, hut who are now reduced to n condi-
tion of nhjoft slaviTy. Their history is most
obscure, and it is not with certainly known
whence they came or by what stepu they
descended to their present level. It seems
certain, however, that they belong to the same
family of wanderers who are known in Efcypt
as Gayiiras, in Hungary an Zingiyi, in Ger-
many a-s Zipeuner, in Spain a.s (Sitanos.-in
FVancc ftfl Bohemians, and in England as
Gipsies. Their own traditions derive them
from Syria, whence they were transported
in the eighth century, by one of the Greek
emperors, to Thr«ce. C')n account of some
pcculiaritie.iin their mnnners, perhaps of some
Btrauge f<irms of doctrine, they seem to have
become detested and despised by nci<i;hlK)ur-
ing nations, and especially by the Moliamrac-
dans. When the Turks penetrated into their
territory, instead of merely requiriti'/ tribute
from, them, they attacked them with fury,
dispersed them, hunted them down like wild
beasts, and condemned those to perpetual
flcrvitudo whose lives they spared. In tliis
persecution they were encouragvd hy (he
Christiana : who shared, indeed, the greater
part of the newly ma<1e serfs among them-
selves. It i.< estimated that at ]iri'sonl there
are more thnn twenty-thrre thfuisanfl Zif^n
families in Moldo-Walhichia, comprisinp; about
a hundred and fifty thousand .soul.";. A certain
numlRT of these belong to the Stale, which
employs them in mines and public works ;
whilst tho others are divided nmonp; the
monasteries and the Boyards. Some of these
latter po'.'ie.ss as many as five or six thousand,
engaged in part in too most laborious works
connected with their estates, in part let out
upon hire. They sell or exchange them at rer-
tnin fixed periods of the year, bringing them
like cattle to market ; until l.ilely, they treated
them with such severity that they not urifre-
quently drove them to suicide. Mimy Boy-
ards of humane character now grjint a semi-
liberty to their Zigans, allowing them fur
80 much a year to go about aa they jilcsise,
Bceking for work, and retaining the produce
of it. Once every spring, tho half-eiifrawht^fd
slave muft make his appearance and pay his
tribute. Sometimes, also, he bring.-" an instal-
ment of his own price, and thii.s manngea by
degrees to free himself An itidiislrious m.in
may cnrn his liberty in ten years; but this
unforfuTiate race has been so bnitalised by
long sulTering, and is so addicted to every
kind of debauchery, that very few succeed tn
rescuing themselves from bondage. Amongst
the Bo^'ards of the present day there are
a good many whose copper complexion,
white teeth, and general ca.<it of countenance,
cvi<lcntly prove them to b« descended from
Zigans.
Tho physical constitution of this unhappj
pcnplc is strongly marked. The men arv
generally of lofty stature, robust and
sinewr. Their skin is black or copper-co-
loured ; their h&ir, thick and woolly ; their
lips are of negro heaviness, and their teeth
as white as pearls ; the nose is considerablj
flattened, and the whole countenance is ilia*
mined, as it were, by lively rolling cyeft,
All, without exception, wear beards. Their
dress consists commonly of a piece of tAttcred
cloth thrown carelessly around them : per-
haps an old bed-curttin given by some nuuter,
or a blanket that has gone through every
degree of fortune, until it has been rejected
by the scullion.
As is the case in many savage tribes, the
women are cither extremely ugly or extremely
handsome. Most of the Zigana are beautiful
up to the ago of twenty ; but, af\cr that time,
they suddenly shrink and shrivel, change
colour, bend, and lose the lightness of their
step, as if an enchanter's wand had changed
them from youth, admired and wooed, to dis-
honoured old age. The dress of these women is
peculiar, consisting generally of nothing but a
tight tunic or bodice made of sheepskin, and
scarcely reaching to the knees. It leftToa
their legs, their arms, and their necks bare.
Over their heads the most coquettish throw a
white veil, and some few indulge in leather
s.indals. As ornaments they wear earrings of
brass filligree, necklnces of paras strtmir upon
a slender thong, ami a variety of nii't:il brace-
lets. The children go naked up to ihu Hgw of
ten or twelve, and whole swarms of girls and
boys may sometimes be seen rolling about to-
gether in the dust or mud in summer, in the
water or snow in winter — like so many block
worms, .^s )'-ou pass by, a dozen heads of
matted hair and a doKcn pairs of sharp eyes
arc raised towards you, and you are greeted
with a mocking shout, which alone tells yoii
that the hideous things are your fellow-
crcitures.
In tine weather the Zigan is a very inde.
pendent being. He sleeps in the open air, in
the forests, in the flcld-s, in tho streets of tho
towns — anywhere, in fact, where he can find a
pl.T'c to lay his head. However, it is their
custom, for tho summer season, to erect little
sheds of canvas, of straw, of branches, or of
mud ; whilst in winter they scratch deep holcii
in the earth, which they roof with reeds and
turf. Their Furniture is surprisingly simple,
consisting of an old kettle, a few two-pronged
fork.s, and perhaps a pair of .scissors, a
poignard, and a gourd to hold brandy, or
arakee — to the use of which this race is
particularly addicted. When they havo
stowed these articles in their holes, or
under a shed, they call the place their home.
142
riorSEIlOLD WORDS.
iOtrntm
the youth goes to the bthcr of the ^rl
he hos chosen, and, aftt-r witrn' tiilctnpts at
politeness — -as olftrinp a pipe, or praising tht
sir,e of the old ptiillirniBii's beard — comos
straight to (he pdint, and pro|)osca hiniM'ir
ns II Bon-in-kw. Few questions arc «i^ked,
few conditions made. UnlcM there be sonkc
iniportiint objection, tho voung lorcr re-
ceives permission to call \\\s comrades to-
gvthcr, and build a hut during the course of
the night to receive his bride. The very next
day he requests his mother to i>rej>are a full
pot of porridge, and then repairs to the dwel-
ling — a hole six feet square, or perliaps a
tent of branches — where the maiden of his
choice, drcsiMMl in her sheepskin tiuiic, with a
veil borrowed from a neighbour, ii modestly
crouching in a corner. He take« her by the
hand and leads her to where hut family !»
collected. The oldest man of the trilH! is
th«re by appointment, encouraged by a fee
of a few hnndfuls of poiri'lpe, and linKtily
mutters a few words by wnv of blessing.
This in the whole ceremony, if, indeed, the
great feed that follows be not more worthy of
Uiat name; and thus the Zignns continue
fi'om genenition to poneration. We arc porry
to be oliligtd to ad<l that both women and
nwn arc, as a rule, exceedingly debauched.
MR. GULLITEB'S ENTERTAINMENT.
Jastes GrxuvEai respectfully submits to
Uie attention of a discerning public the
following detail of facts, upon which he pro-
poses to found, during the approaching winti-r
(iMson, a new public entertainment. It is
James Gulliver's firm determination not to
gidl the public, and he therefore frankly
Stnti's that in obtaining from the conductor
of Household AVords an intro<luction into the
majestic presence of the English people, it is
his hope that he may not only save himself
a large outloy in posters, but receive money
instead of paying it for the insertion, in that
widely circulated journal, of the following
advertisement
For m-iny j'cars Jnmeg Gulliver has watched
the growth of popular intelligence and taste
in England and .VmericA, smi linj? endeavoured
to keep pace with it. New York and Lon-
don are no longer to bo amused with the
inexhaustible bottles and loystcrioug cards
of the professed conjuror. Mysteries must
be real to satisfy the aRC. To fetch a guinea,
the exhibitor must raise a ghost To fetch
a cniwn, it is requisite at least that J. G.
should in sober Bcriousncss jiroduee evidence
of hnving discovered aa much as his distin-
guir-hcd Pirefather I.omuel. The ground,
however, being already occupied, so fxr as
concerns the discovery of a new people en-
titled Lilliputians, two of which are now
being exhibited in London, and there being
not much hope for a rival show of HroMig-
nagians, James Gulliver has sought in new
directions, and has happily sncoecded ta
obtaining the distinguished aid of the latA
Mr. Lucian, of Satnosata, near the Euphrates
in die production of an exhibition which ho
Halters himself will be more suq)risingly
agreeatile than anything yet seen in London.
Very recently a young man of business
having bail oora.sion to consult the spirit of a
deceased partner on tho subject of an error
made by him while living, in the transfer of
some entries from the waste l»ook, waa imr.
prised by the statement of Miss Fraiidc, the
medium, that an old school-friend desired to
speak with him. It provixj to bo |h«« Greek
satirist Lucian, who spoke by rap* as follows;
" Get a room for me. My time i.s come again.
I also have travelled." My friend adtcd,
" What do you mean ?" — Answer : " Azice
Lilliputians."
Question. Did you ever sec thein f — Answer
by one rap, meaning No,
Q, What do you mean, then ? — A, I lunra
seen stranger things.
Q. You refer to your History of yoor
Wonderful Travels ?—y1. Yes.
Q. Thev have been often imitated, arc you
envious of any imitator? — A. Yc8.
Q. Of whom, of Munchausen? — A. Ko.
Q. Of Lemuel Gulliver?— .1. No,
Q. or Velasquez?— ./I. Yea. Get a room
for me.
Q. You want to exhibit and to tell jcrar
storj'?— -<. Yes.
(J. But you .said when living l! ' tale
was DHse, and that it w«.s nieuni :i-
turc of the ridiculous tales pah j-'n ibe
world by Fesias, I think, in his History of
the Indies, and by Sambutus in his account
of the wonders of the ocean ; do you meui
now to affirm that it was not invented T —
A. It is true enough, I promise you. Qti
a room for me,
Q. But can you produce anything (or vlo
stare at in corroboration of your story I—
A. Get a nwrn for me.
The young man of business, looking at the
matter very properly in a business point of
view, had a short convers.ition with Uba
Fmude, and then applied to the abovc-naratd
Jnmcs Gulliver, who lins since, in associattOQ
with the expert medium, had various comniQ-
nica lions with llie said sjiirit of Lucian, nndsr
whose direction he has organised the follow-
ing programme of an entertainment, which
will include not only n constant series of the
sounds, but also of the smelts proceeding from
Spirits, together with a phantom panorama,
and the production of a great number of
umnr.ing thini^.
Tlie introduction of smells into the ento^
tainnieiit lins been suggested by Lucian him-
self, to whom ;it a recent jtrnnre it was pointed
out thnf, in a book published by the Chan-
cellor of Killaloe a year or two before spirit
rapping bec.'>mc popular, it was nfRrmed as a
restdt of certain reasoning that the souls of
men lie io the gasea which escape from th<^
HODSKHOLD WORD&
Endjmion after thb offered to Locian
letters of naturalisation tm a Lunatic, which
he declined, but of which b copy was taken ;
and a copy of the said letters of naturaliBation
will be presented to eycrj' gentleman or lady
who Ehall have paid ten shillings for ad-
niLision to the front seats at ttio proposed
entprtainment
Quitting the Lunar Island, Lucian and his
friends sailed for a long way, touching only
at the nioniing star to take in water. At
last they camo to the capital of the Land of
Lamps, where they stopped for a night,
baring lamps lighted ercrywhcre about
them. On the next day they came down by
a city in the clouds, and aflcr four days
descended again gently to the sea, which
they found calm. Unluckily, howerer, they
soon got among big fishes, whereof one had
(octh like steeples ami was tiftccn hundred
leagues in length of body. Into the mouth
of that whale the ship rushed as into a
whirlpool, and was carried safely down the
creature's throat At first it was all dark
inside, but when the whale came to gape and
let the light in there was visible a world of
other fish, with carcases of men and bales of
merohandiiic, anchors and masts of ships.
Towards the middle also there was earth
with mountains, made probably by the quan-
tity of mad which tlic great monster h.id
swallowed. On the land there was a forest,
tliirty miles in compass, among the tre<'S
of which herons and halcyons were flying.
After some days, Lucian and six of the crew
went inland and discovered a small temple
built to Neptune, heard also the barking of a
dog, and saw smoke at a dist.nnce. So tiny
were led to an old man and his son, who said
that Ihcy had lived there miserably for scven-
and-twcnty years. There was no lack of
food, but there was great trouble with the
natives, more especially the pickled-men, who
have the face of a lobster and the body of an
eel. One of these picklcd-mcn will be in-
cluded among the curiosities belonging to the
entertainment As the natives of all kinds,
although numerous, had no arms Unit fish-
bone.o, it was determined by Lucian and his
fellow sailors to make war upon tliem ; and
80 Lucian was engaged in hi.s second war, of
which also a graphic account will be given,
illustrated oy a heavy rain of fish-bones,
which will ny like hail acros.s the room, to
represent the arrows of the picklcd-racn, the
carcinoi'hicrs, the crab-tritons, and other
wild monsters against whom that war was
waged.
Lucian and his companions having lived in
this way for more than a year and a half, it
happened, on the fifth day of the ninth month
at about the second gaping of the monster —
who gaped once every hour, and so enabled
thcra to reckon time — that they heard a rast
noise without, and creeping up to those parts
of the fish which, lying near its mouth, wer«
thinly inhabited, being made swampy by tha
constant overflow of water, they saw (ho
outer sky and water, and a great comixt of
giants about the stealing by one party of ^
herd of dolphins. They were i' ' ^
however, unable to escape, and ti y
afterwards dug a tunnel six huumi-ii p.-n-ra
long through the creature's side, yet they
could find no outlet Then it occurred to
them to fire the forest on tlie ixUnd ; and so
cause his death. It burnt for >.i.ven davs
before it made the nioi\stcr cough and choice
a little ; then, however, l>o In-gan to gapo
more dully and grow sick and faint ()n the
eleventh ciny they perceived by the smell of
him that he was dying, and propped open his
mouth with long beams, that they might not
be shut in and lost entirely. Then after the
three days' labour they launched their ship
safely again into the oy- ■ ■-
So saihng on they I irig unusnal
until tlicy got into a .si..i ■ „ cU]i)i of ihB
nn"lk will be handed round — whereon the
Princess Tyro, daughter of Saltii"ii. us i.».i-
vimcd an Island of Cheese. I''
cheese will be distributed. Conii: • ir
way over the Atlantic, ihcy arrived llnallj
at the Isle of the Blcsse<l, governed by Rha-
(lamaothus. There the corn grows in littla
loaves, needing neither to be ground, kneaded
nor baked; the inhahitants sit (n ' ' " ir
cil3* upon beds of flowei-s in the Iv ;,
and have meal blown to them h\ luc windn,
white crystal trees droop over them, prih
ducing for truit glasses of all sorts, irudi
arc no sooner plucked than they are ftill et
wine. A tankard plucked fVnm one of th6M
trees, full of spiced sack, will be sent round
among the vi.silors as a loving cup, and it
will at the same time be made to rain OTW
the whole room slices of meat and drops of
gravy. While the company assembled a
enjoying thi.s a grand tableau of the Elyi"
fields will be displayed in a bla/.e of l
light, and so the entertainment will bebrou
triurapliantly to a conclusion.
James Gulliver respectfully submits thct
the above programme promises an amount i
novelty and excitement that has never
been provideil, either in London or
York, to the lovers of the marvellous.
begs, therefore, to entreat that the
favour may be shown to him that ha.s beeD
slready lo liberally bestowed on other exhi
biUons similar in their design.
Buuii un Bamaiu, rriaian •■4 timttjr'n, SO Nartk WOUiib SliMt, Mm Toik.
** Familiar in their Afoutfui a* HOUSEHOLD WOEDST-
8n4KHraABai
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
A U'KEKLY JOUllNAL
CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS.
Vou VIII.
ilcELUATH k BARKER, PUBLISHERS.
Wm.i.« Na 186.
AFRICAN ZEPHYRS.
Tor think this article is to be sentimental
— a pastoral, or a fairy t»Ie — i>ecautiti it treats
of the Zephyrs of the south f You never
made a gi'vater ini.stakc in your lift*. Xly
Zephyr has no relationship with either Eoriis
or Boreas. Though ho possibly is not wi.se
enough in his generation to be able to say that
he knows his own father, he still does not in
the least pretend to be ono of the sons oi'
.•Eolus. Like Figaro, he is perfectly imtilferent
wlyether you take him for the ollspring of n
{0<1 or a demigod — of nn emperor, a duke, a
pope, or a cabman. It is sutficient for him fo
be a Zephyr, llis native place, of course, is
Paris ; or, if not born in itic incln>poli:» of
Fmnce, a sojourn there ha.s lonf; since natu-
ralised him. Me is quite a^j much at home in
the army, with drums and trumpets, corporala
and .Hcrgeantii, bayonets ti.\cJ, and cap cocktjd
on one side. Tbese Zephyrs, therefore, are
not in the least afraid of halls and yat-
agans, want and hardship, long marches,
heat, liunger, and bad quarters. It was thej
who supplied the heroes of M:iz.igmn. They
are beings whom you can neither hate nor
prai.se ; creatures for whom you reserve in the
corner of yom* conscience a grain of indul-
gence and half-a-dozen excuses.
To write in intelligible language, Zephyrs
is a nickname given in Algeria to a corp^t
which is recruitetl from the entire body of
the French army. These select and admired
individuals are all gay fellows, endowed with
that free and independent spirit which docs
not squ.'ire with vulgar ideas of discipline.
Artists and geniuses of original talent scorn
drill. liigh-Hyers, they sour above routine.
VoUr is a verb in tlie French language,
meaning both to fly and to steal. Gram-
matically speaking, therefore, tliefl comes as
naturally to Zephyrs as llight. Many of
the.se ingenious gentlemen con count on their
fingers as many d.iys of punishment ns of
ju:tual service. And punishment, be it long
or short — be it nn hour's imprisonment or
ten year.* at the galleys — docs not reckon in
the term of military duty wliich the State
requires from every conscript Penitence I
ended, the old st^inding debt has still to be
paid The ranks of the Zephyrs are also
tncrcascd by soldiers who are drafted from a |
Vol. Vm.-So. IS«
less pure source than ft reginiental ]>lace of
arrest. With this miscellaneous and doubtful
class, battalions have been formed, officially
known as the light batulions of Africa. But
the nickname of the canteen and the battle-
field has prevailed, and ha^ spread the fa-
vourable reputation of those whom every one
now calls Zephyrs. The nickname, however,
for those who bear it, i.s, in fact, no nick-
name. It is a title of which the light gentry
are exceedingly proud, and which they take
every pains to meriu It is not a little that
will daunt a fellow who wishes to bo thought
a genuine Zejihyr.
Descriptions in natural history are easy,
because a duck is a duck, and a pig is a pig ;
but Zcphyr:j arc not to be driven up in
a corner, and dashed off in hnlf-a-dozen
strokes. They all bear a general resemblance ;
and yet there arc not two of them alike.
Their uniform is at first the same as that of
other soldiers, except that a little hunting-
horn on their white buttons replaces the
number of their regiment, which they are
now thought unworthy to bear ; but they
disguise their dres.s with remarkable success.
Look closely, and you will soon sec some-
thing to remind you of the rooted animosity
which the Zephyr cherishes against discipline
and rej^inicnLals. Ubsenre that cap moro
rumpled thiiii worn with having been so
often dashed passionately on the ground.
There cannot be a shadow of doubt that
some extra-regulation repairs have been
made by its proprietor, and have given it a
more coquettish and comfortable shape.
Sometimes the peak, by means of a clever cut,
sloi)es downwards towards the eyes to shade
them from the sunhciims. Sometimes it stands
up in pert dcliance, that the wearer may con-
front the skies. In France the military stock
is commonly called '' the pillory." Il is not
so in Algeria ; for the Zephyr, when he
has not k)st it, generally carries it in his
knapsaclc "{he Zephyr has the art of wear-
ing with grace even those ugly and vast
grefit-co;its, for which, when the array tailor
umde them, he took measure of the sentry-
box. Draping it artistically to conceal a
rent, and showing the lining by cross-button-
ing, ho converts it into more than a civilised
garment ; it is a dressing-gown of the newest
style. The Zephyr's trowsers' fashion has
-\\
148
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[OndMia^tr
also Its peculiar sbtmp. In them he has
the ekili to combine a maddcr-rcd cloth
uniTorm with an article of clothing more in
harmony with the exigencies of a tjx>pical
climate. The hj-brid pant.iloons consist of
cloth, as hi)^)i up as the skirts of the coat ;
but, iifl'.T this externally visible zone, there
commences a much more extensive region of
linen, borrowed from omiy sacks, or from
the reinnant.'i of some olil worn-out tent.
When the coat is buttoned up nothing un-
usual is even s\ispecte(!. But to .see the
Zephyr battalion in action .storming a breach,
they iook like wiry, cnergetii: beings disguised
in (attiTS that never belong to them.
However fallen the Zej;hyr nitiy be, you
will always i5nd in him one nnfailing motive
impelliTiK him low-irds pood and towards
eviL Vanity, pride, tlie love of Rtofy, if you
will (there being many dilTercnt sorts of
glory) i.s his mainspring of action, and his
guiding-sUir. The Zephyr, unequal to a con-
Bit^tcnt lino of life, is still susceptible of the
most generous transports, and capable of the
roost heroic and brilliant actions. He would
willingly sajTifice his life to obtiiin a tropliy
from the enemy. He would risk his neck,
ten times over, to fitenl a fowl from a native
hut He is greatly influenced by surrounding
circumstinee.s. Hanger elevates the most
degraded soul. But the bright side of our
aerial heroes, on whtrh they shine with un-
disputed splendour, is Ihfir joyousness and
hilarity. Their spirits llow on with inex-
haustible wit, ]ins8ion, and sometimes even
madness. Their indu.slrinl talents know no
bound.s. Happy, j-e offlccrs, who cmunand
8uch troops; if the lash bml not so'ollen to
be used. Beware, even, of ton much of it
In action a Zephyr has been known to piit a
bullet into the back of his commander's head,
coolly remarking to his next door m-ighhonr,
" He made a little loo ft-ee with me ; it's my
turn now to make free with him. Wlari lie
feels the lead he"!l merely say, ' Those con-
founded Arabs have done for me I' " But
use your Zephyrs decently, and they will
furnish you with every assistincc yuu can
want ; — a valet-de-chiimbre for yourscif, a (\kI-
rato head-dresser to curl your wife's hair, a
watchmaker, a farce-writer, a painter, a nurse-
Quid, and, thanks to the suck-bottle, even
a nurse. These various talents arc displayed
either in so many separate volumes, or
all arc bound up in one single copy. Does
there exist a cocoa-nut which a Zepiiyr cannot
transform into a trinket 1 — a wisp of straw
which will not, in his hands, become a useful
piece of furniture? — a scrap of M|liile and pink
paper which is not soon converted into a
hand screen, a cocked hat, or a pin btiskct ?
And you, celibmted iron wire, what is it
that ft Zephyr cannot m.ikc with your
metallic thread.«, from a gun-])ick to a sus-
pen.sion bridge ?
The Zephyrs were the gentlemen who sold
the poiice-statiob. Shortly ader the capture
cc at
i
of Bougie, a few of these happy rogues, in con-
sequence of some extempore fantasia, bad
been imprisonetl in a native house recently
abandoned by its Arab owner. For want of
better gymnastic exercise they counted to a
ganet window, to enjoy the pure and intel-
kctuul pleasure which the mere sense of c'ght
affords. They soon perceived an honest com-
[latriot who had followed in the train of the
expedition, looking out for a place wherein to
exercise the trade which flourishes wherever
the European plants his foot — the profession
St Crispin delighU to patronise. To ques-
tion him about his plans, und to tell him to
use a little strength against the outside of the
door while they lent a helping hand within, waa
the work of a vvty few seconds. " Yon want
lo hire a shop, my friend? Take our advice at
once, and buy one. Th.it is the only cerl
nitthod of contriving to get off without p«_
rent Never fear; your countenance plcj
lis. We are the conquerors and nmstexs hi
Come, wc won't be too hard upon you.
shall have all this freehold property for a
mere nothing — twenty francs, say. The only
trouble you will put us to is to more a little
further up the street Here, you kooWj w»
are quite at home."
Two hours afterwards an officer going hk
rounds, found the innocent purchaser in-
stalled, and cobbling aw.iy with an casj
conscience. The Zephyrs had made use
their wings and were flown. But at that vi
moment the sound of winc-impedcd to*
fell upon his car. A group of men with t
uniforms, and eyes veiled by bruised cyelidl^
made their appearance at the corner of th*
street., The gentle Zephyrs, having spent the
twenty francs, were returning homo undv
arrest.
Not long after, a horrilile sirocco was bloir-
ing at the same ])lace. Who on earth couW
help being thirsty? .At noon eight of the ia<d
knowing sylphs presented themselves to i
Bougie merctinnt. Their .serious, almost mi
t.iry nttitude, their ropes and wiKMjen shoi
der-yokes which arc used for carrying varioi
burdens, all seemed to intimate that an actoil
order had been given. One of them addre»
ing the master of the house, said that tbi
superior commandant requested n cask rf
wine, the same as the last which he hi4
received. The party took charge of Ih*
precious load, and departed in the same d
berate style. A few days afterwards
wine-merchant .xsked the commandant h(
he liked the last wine he had sent for.
"^Vinc! what wine?"
"The wine I gave the men of your
talion, who said they were sent to fetch it
you."
" You delivered a cask of wine to
fellows? Then you furnish me with ti>»
solution of an enigma, which I hate
vain been endeavouring to comprehend,
has happened that for two days past
man who goes up to the fountain just outsidii
curia IMkaiH.|
IFRICAN ZEPHYRS.
ur
the walls of Uie tovrn, either stops there
entirely or comes back drunk. I could nut
in the least make out how the Goura^ ii water
had acquired such an unusual property.
Follow me, we may perhapa be in liuiu ta
save a remnant of your property." The two
speakers, guided by a line of reeling Zephyi'S
posiicd ttirc>ugh Uie gates of Bougie, and
reached the ueighbourliood of the three
fountains. Sevei-aJ drunken snorers, stretched
at length on tlic battle-lield, like Curiutii
whom wounds had betrayed to the ven-
geance of the conqueror, indicated the path
to a thicket of pomegranale^j and nlues
interwoven with clcmaliii. In the midst
stood the enormous wine-barrel ujiright, and
with its head Ntared in. Four men lying
close by, in attitiidei) that were more than
pictureuqiie, kept sleeping guard round tlic
empty tomb, in which, however, they liad
buried their t^cnscs.
A couple of Zephyrs, in a forward state,
were strolling arm-in-arm through the low
quarters of Algiers, thinking more about the
privileges of Ifcauly than of (ho.sc of rank and
tpaulelies. lu fact, they had completely for-
gotten the latter. A .superior olhi.er Uip-
pcned to pa&<). The youths were so inleiiily
occupied in staring at a brown and bright-
eyed face which peeped llirougli a little
square upper window, tliat they each forgot
to touch lii.i cap. The officer slopped, and
asked the Arcadian nearest to him, in a tone
which sounded roughly interrogative, " Don't
you know politeness, sir?"
The questioned Zephyr, without the least
embarrassment, gravely turned to his com-
panion, and said, "Gauthier, do vou know
Politeness ?"
" No," replied Gauthier innocently. Then
turning again to the officer, he formally
cittpprd his heels together, stretched bis left
arm along the seam of his trousers, and de-
liberately declared, with his open right hand
to the peak of his cap, " Not known in the
battalion. Commandant!"
The Zephyr sometimes enters the service
of science, and turns science to his own
private profit. For instance, the Ornn Zephyr
will procure you fossil fish which he tliids in
the marl by industriously (searching and
splitting the strata. But, if his liibour prove
unfmilful Or the order given be too heavy to
fulfil, he will neverthele.'^s furni.sli you with
all the species by means of sardines, red her-
ring skiti, and a little strong glue. It is said
that a Zephyr was the only person who could
supply an erudite and zealous naturalist with
the iTitel of the Atlas, mentioned by Sallu.st
and by the learned Doctor Shaw. This Atlas
rate] bore a great resemblance to the com-
mon rat, except that his nose tcituinatcd in
a, little proboscis, and his tail was nearly a
quarter of an inch shorter than it should have
been. This excessively rare specimen of a
race now ahnost e.viinct was at once the joy
of the pun.'ha.scr and the tinder, who bad
simply deprived one of his prison companions
of u morsel that could be well spared, to graft
the superabuitdant part, by means of a little
incision, on the root of hi,-; nose,
Anothei .scientific Zephyr, to avoid coming
to a nonpliut in a difficult moment, contrived
to take advantage of tlie mani.n wliich urges
80 nuiny }ieopIe in Algeria to form large col-
lections of insects. An officer at bivouack,
perceiving, at the twilight hour, a hand which,
after discreetly raising the curUun nf the
tent, wa.s inquisitively taking a turn under
the cloak that served him for .1 [tillow,
jumped up, aud caught a Zephyr in tliu fact
of a search which was somewhat more than
suspicious. " What are you doing there, you
villain!" he shouted, beside himself with
rage.
" I, captain i I was feeling for cohop/era."
An extremely probable time and jjlace for
beetle-hunting!
If you have the slightest taste for eccentric
dishc^ a Zephyr is the purveyor to stock your
larder with an ever-varied supply of game.
To-day you have a fillet of gazelle, to-morrow
a quarter of porcupine. Uedgchog, hyumo,
jnck.d, tortoi.sf, and lion, will all be sure to
tlgurc on your bill of fare. There is no oe-
ca.sion to trouble yourself about cnls, and
dngR, and truiiklcss miels. You will get all
those Ijy hundred* In a town where the
Zi-]ihyr.s had lately arrived the public treasury
was exhausted by the payuictit of a tritling
bounty intended to encourage the disappcar-
utice ul rats. Their skill was too much even
for the rats of Algeria, the most knowing
rodent.* iu the world.
In more than one town, and in more than
one 4-ainp, the Zephyrs have managed to
organise theatres, which were in no respect
inferior to tliose of the mother-country. The
most remarkable fact is that the best sup-
ported parts were those of interesting heroiaca
and dashing coquettes, kindly underUiken by
l>cardte.S8 members of the corps! It is incon-
ceivable what industry and talent have been
displayed on these exciting histrionic oc-
casions. The Zephyrs devoted themselves,
body and soul, to the accomplishment of the
mighty work. Scenery, costumes, and pro-
perties were produced by magic. Notljing
stopped the ardent Zephyr, not even the
humble office of prompter. One day, at
Orleausville, a lieutenint-gcneral arrived to
inspect the division. The fountains were to
spout their best in honour of his presence,
and the theatrical performance had not been
forgotten. Nevertheless, previous to the
hour of amu^mont, the inspcctiou of the
troops demanded some attention. The roU-
cill was first strictly read ; but to the i.sto-
iiishment of the licutcnant-gcner.il inspecting,
only a siqgle private of an entire Zephyr
regiment niiKtcrod, and ho had to answer for
all the rest " Gauthier V shouted the orderly.
" Here."
"Jobinel?"
I
I
HOUSEHOLD WORDS,
L
" Not here. Hairdresser at the theatre."
" Falempin ?"
" Walkinnf ptrtleman in the comedy."
" Gritn|>lin ?"
" Heroine in the tragedy."
" Sansharbc ?''
"Grisctte in the farce."
" Potaurer ?"
" Scene-painter."
" Then is your theatre the Grand Opera ?"
asked the guneral.
" Very nearly, General,"
" Anti you mean to show me that?"
" Certainly, ticncral, the theatre is a part of
the arniy which you have to inspect."
In the evening, by the light of a hriliiant
chnudelier, the in.spector applauded the j^ccs
of the ZephjTS, who, elegantly perfumed,
curled and gloved, in the guise of charming
Paruieiii.rn, played out their pijiys to the
great entertainment of the divisional general
inspecting.
But after the vaudeville, comes the tra-
gedy ; the great piece treads on the heels of
the little one. The farce will then follow, to
make IIS forget Melpomene's dagger and
poison-bowl.
The scene is clinnged ; the theatre ia for-
gotten. The merry chorus is heard no more.
We have pa.sscd beneath the cold and humid
rauIUof oiiL- of tlic an<-ient Spanish huilding.s.
There arc no external apertures; no day-
light enters that sombre ma.ss of stone. The
ceilings sweat an icy water, which falls drop
by drop, like tears from the eye whose briny
source is being exhausted by sorrow and
long coiiiinucd want. Having passed through
Bomo doors of incredible iveight and thick-
ness which swing heavily on their nisly
hinges, we enter a narrow dungeon cs("avated
in a damp and chilly soil; although beneath
a glorious sky, which i.s ever tinged with
blue or gold. Through the veil of a grey and
gloomy twilight which is never pierced by a
ray of sunshine, wo perceive two men
crouching oppo.s^ito to each other on the
ground, and holding in their handn canls.
Wliat are they saying? — "Hearts! clubs I"
"Trumps! The game is mine!"
"I have lost again!" the other replies.
Then, stretching towards Ida adversary one
of his three remaining fingers, "There, cut
away!" he shouts. The door unexpectedly
opens.
We were then ia the fort of Mers-el Kchir,
whither insubordination and crime had con-
ducted a pair of Zephyrs. Isolation and the
sting.4 of conscience, soon bccanie insupport-
able to such excited spirits. The worst of the
two had pocketed a pack of cards, his only
missal. They first tried hard (o find ninusc-
meni in contests which soon were found in-
sipid. What could they play for, who po.ssc.»i.«ed
nothing? — nothing which could give value
to the victory? They had nothing there,
except their own persons. But one's person is
& sort of property ; and it ia possible, too, to ven-
ture it The craving for excitement, and the
dread of vacant hours, made them mutually
chance the loss of a finger, to be cut off by
the winner at live points of eC'irW. The loser
was aliout to suffer mutilation, when the door
opened to admit the Hcrjeant who acted aa
tho turnkey of the pri.son. Shocked at such
an atrocious bargain, he forbade the perform-
ance of the sacrifice. But, as soon as the Ser-
jeant's back was turned, the gamesters cbos«
another stake. The loser vva.s to murder the
interloper who had prevented the payment
of a debt (if honour. The loser kept faia
word, and they were both executed for tb«
murder of the seijcant
We will now have a peep at more cheeHu]
scenes; for man)' a Zephyr h,as the art of
employing, in merry mood, the hours whicli
he is obliged to spend in a dungeon, or at the
bottom of the iHm. Silos arc dull places of
retirement. They are a sort of cnonaous
cistei-ns in which the Arabs store their grain.
When, during oppressive heat.'^ the first cul-
prit descends to the bottom of the vast am-
phora, a sensation of coolness refreshes him
for a moment Tho change is Tather agree-
able than otherwi.se, and the orriTal of •
companion in misfortune gives bim an equl
additional pleasure. ISut soon three, four, and
five new prisoners are added ; and, before long,
air, which can only enter at the upper orifice
begins to run short Mutual asiiistance k
necessary to mount each other's shoulden^
and they have to tRinsform themselves mtoi
living laddLT to enable each to take in a stock
of air at tho hole, to last until his turn to
breathe comes round again. Meanwhile con-
tinued jokes and laughter burst forth J
the various human rounds of the ladder.
is wonderful that such an amount of hi
and trial does not suggest to them Franl
idea ; to tnrn honest and rcspcctnble men,
the most successful piece of roguery thej
play.
Tattooing is a grand pastime during
tivity. The battaljon has its regular pi
flors of engraving upon human skin,
never stir without their instruments
tliera, carefully trea.surcd in proper
What delight is thcii-s to find A new
a blank page of white paper, upon whose
and virgin surface they can e.Ycrcise
decorative talent In order that every
tomer may be suited to his taste with
emblem to fix upon his chest or his arm, thi
convert themselves into vast pattern
entirely covered with specimens. Many
admiring amateur, excited by the beauty
these [lictures on living vellum, has alloi
suljjecLs to he punctured on his skin,
would afterwards thankfully get oi
by means of a red-hot iron. We wi
acquainted willt n Zephyr-lad, whom
knew by any other name than the
had punctured upon his forehead.
fortunate boy commenced his cai
taking a spito against the namb«r
CkviM DtaltMK]
AFRICAN ZEPHYRS.
149
wftd drawn when, at twenty jtan of age, the
day of conscription arrived for chance to
decide whether he was to go for a soldier
or not Fatal number One replied in the
alBrmutire. The slight success he met with in
his new career, his punishments, his transit
to the Battalion of Zcjnhyrs, were all attri-
buted to the malign inmienccs of that hated
and cursed unit So, during a melancholy
tit, believing it useless to struggle againiit
fate, lie turned the evils that awaited
liini into a i>ulij(.'ct of pride and boasting.
As a tlnat nuxle of dcfj'ing destiny, he had
Uttooed, from temple to temple, " Unlucky
Number One." The ice once broken he
did not stop ; and his whole body soon
swarmed with choice engravings, like Punch
and the lUui^trttted London News combined.
It is impossible to describe the contents of
this truly curiou.H museum ; for at least half
the subjects are unmentionable. From the
hands, covered with red and blue rings, you
p:kS3ed to the wrists, decorated ivith cameos.
On his arras were daggers threatening hearts
that burnt with an evvr-equal Haute, and
were encircled by Uie motto, " Death to faith-
less woman !" Then came names entwined,
and full-length portraits. On the shoulders
were a pair of .spinacli-secd (officcr'.<) epau-
lette's "''t^i the three stars of lieutciiant-
gcncral ; a cross of the Legion of Honour
on the heart ; an enormous crucifix on the
middle of the chest ; and, lastly, the Order
of the Garter, tattooed at exactly tlic si)Ot
which it ought to occupy on a knight's leg.
Meanwhile the day arrived when Unlucky
Number One ceaseil to be a Zephyr. He was
Kiialchedaway to the altar. It would be curious
tg knrnv what soft-hearted woman took pity
on this Hiisci'llaneous gallery. Perhaps she
alForded another instance of severely punished
female curiosity.
The Zephyrs have contrived to raise
auxiliaries among quite a noble kind of
recruits. At Bougie, the service of the place
compelled that the ground should be recon-
noitred every day, up to the edge of a certain
ditch ; which ditch had been lioUowed out to
prevent cavalry from advancing too near, and
from retreating too abruptly slier a surprise.
This reconoitring duty was seldom performed
without several Arab shots being fired from
ths opposite thicket, to the disturbance of
the morning walk, and sometimes the
sudden death of the walker. The Zephyrs
dctennined to train some dogs to take part
in the sport ; since it proved so dangerous
to the sportsmen themsefve.q. They, there-
fore, reared some fierce Arab puppies, of a
species nearly related to the wolf and the
jackal, with whose merits they became ac-
quainted in tho course of thtir adventures.
As the little Mus.sulman dogs grew up they
were fed and caressed by tho red-legged
Zephyrs. They imbibed a strong affection
for their masters, who taught them, by a very
■ample method, to entertain a profound
aversion for the costume of the indigenous
population. As the pupils' dinner-hour ap-
proached, a Zephyr clad in a bunious, or Arab
cloak, treated them alt with a hearty good
beating ; after which his comradi'S, in their
ordinary co.stumc, ovcrvvheliiied thinv with
kindness and fed them liberally. Such a
mode of education produced iU fruit 'Hie
full-grown dogs entertained such an aversion
to the Arabs, that any who ventured within
their reach would instantly have been torn to
pieces. These dogs were afterwards perfect
wonders ; boating the woods and hunting
the thicket*, marching ftfty paces in front of
tho column ; and, not content with indi-
cating the presence of danger by pointing
at any hidden enemy, furiously joined in the
attack whenever a skirmish or engagement
took place. At a later period the organisa-
tion of these brute allies was oflicially recog-
nised. Every hlockaut (outpost) had three or
four dogs, who were included in the effective
forces of the garrison, and who were supplied
with regular daily rations. One of them, whose
thigh had been amputated iu consequence of
a gunshot wound, enjoyed for several years the
honours of superannuation. Her position,
neverthclcs.s, was not purely honorary ; for
she still, in spite of tier inOnuity, continued
to supply tho state with valiant defenders,
In the midat of the varied excitements of
African life, the Zephyr's thoughts will occa-
Btonally recur to the day when he is to return
once more to the land of France. That day
is not merely the moment of liberation ; it is
the concentration of liberty itself. For a
long time pa.st, he has lived in cojnplete igno-
rance of furloughs, Sunday.s, and holfdaya.
His dream, againijt the day of departure, is
to purchase a uniform of his original cor])g,
from which his praidis have bani-iihcd him ;
to exchange the halL'd bugle button ft>r the
button di'^playing the number of his original
corps. If he belonged to the cavalry the ex-
pense would be beyond his hopes ; but for in-
fantry the thing is po.ssible. There is nothing,
therefore, that ho will not do to amass the
trifling sum which will enable him at least to
change his buttons. For ho would not like
to return home with the marks of disgrace
upon his coat At this la.st epoch, at the ap-
proach of the metamorphosis, the most waste-
ful spendthrifts arc suddenly seized with tho
love of economy and of gain.
A monkey, the property of a friend of mine,
once procured us the acquaintance of a Zephyr.
The introduction took place thus : — One day,
the Zephyr, melting with perspiration, and
apparently quite out of breath, rushed into
the middle of a caff, holding my mes.smate's
monkey in his arms. " Lieutenant," ho
gasped, " I've caught your monkey, who
had got loose. He had already reached
the blocl-aun, and was going to desert to the
Arabs. Luckily, I seized him just in time.
I had a devilish hard chase after him,
though !" These words, uttered with clukrming
I
1
160
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
' ICMliMlM tf
simplicity, while the orator, cap in one
hand, was wiping his dripping forehead with
the other, could not fail to draw forth a
thankful reply, partly expressed in words,
partly in silver.
Three days afterwards, Mustapha broke
out of bounds again. The same recompense
was gii'cn fOr his recovery, but not without
some feeling of suspicion. But, when the
fugitive's ransom was a third time claimed,
and Zephyr after Zephyr took his turn in the
monkey-hunt, my friend declared from the
balcony of his window, that he would do
nothing for the future in behalf of so expen-
Bivc an animal, and begged the battalion
to be informed that he would no longer con-
sider hiiaseir answerable for any debts which
Mustapha might henceforth contract. Mus-
tapha's rope was broken no more. The
cunning mine was countermined.
The first author of this clever trick (which
would have been perfect if plagiarists had
not vulgarised it), was thinking about his
return to France. He had escaped from the
dangers of the lato assault of Constantino;
anrl he did not forget the horrors of the
Barriere <le la Villettc, and of the gate of St
Deni.4. He thought, above all, about his
lancer's uniform, which ho anxiously desired
to sport once more. He commenced a search
then, if not with the hope of finding the
special articles of brilliant costume, at least
of [)icking up the money to buy them with.
After a two hours' absence, he returned to
bis captain. "Captain, will you have the
kindness to take care of some money till I
leave, for fear I should spend it at the can-
teen?"
" What is all this ? Whence have you
stolen it ?" said the captain, surprised at the
amount.
" I have not stolen it at all. Captain. It
belong.s to me honcstlv. And I have earned
it"
"In what way?"
" I am going to tell you. You know that
on the other sitle of the breach, the rocks are
precipitous. Some men and women tried to
c.scai)C from the siege that way, by means of a
cord. The cord broke, and the fugitives were
killed upon a jutting point Said I to myself:
People who try to make their escape gene-
rally take money with them ; so I fastened a
rope romid my waist, and persuaded my com-
rades to 1ft me down. I hunted right and left
in the pockets of the wretches, and found the
money you sec here." It w.is enough to make
one f-'i'lily, only to look up from below to the
face of tlie rock down which the Zephyr had
to s'ide.
MianwhUe, the certainty of having a uni-
fin'Mi did not cool his ardour for treasure-
hunting. Believing that the hou.sc of the
cajilain, whose servant he wa.^ contained
hilik-n vnluables, he spent the whole day in
tiiking olT the locks of the uninhabited cham-
bers. They con.sequently found their way to
a Jew, who purchased the produce of the
locksmith's labours. A few days after finish-
ing the bolts and bars, ho sold to tho same
Israelite a heap of wheat, which ought by
right to have gone to the State. For every
sackful he carried by night he received from
his friend a five-franc piece. "The State,"
he interpreted, meant " himself." It is easy,
from this, to comprehend that in a town taken
by storm, the Zephyr is not scrupulous on
whose property he lays his hands.
At last the Zephyr, in his much<oveted
uniform, finds himself on the way to France.
He bestows a passing smile of gratitude on
the eafe ehantans at Marseille ; but his heart
is fixed no longer there. If Mazagran, luckily,
was included in his career, he will proudly
wear the decoration of honour ; and this star
of glory, while absolving him from the past,
will probably guarantee his future prospects.
Otherwise he may perhaps turn out tho most
turbulent blackguard to be found in his
quarter, or the most thorough rogue that
infests his village.
However, he will have his campaigns to
relate, and three or four handsome scare to
show. A pair of dark and ezpressira ejta,
moved by his narrative, may perhaps snbdna
his untameablo character. Will Hereuka
spin at the feet of Omphale ? The case it
just as likely as not Hymen will finish the
conquest Our Zephyr, while dutifully rock-
ing the cradle, will thank Heaven that aS hu
ended so well, and pray that his babes may
be like — their mamma.
A SPLENDID MATCH.
Mm. Ciiestertos won the day. She mi
a good manager and a careful mother, and
understood the tactics of society to a nicefy.
The Crawfords and the Macclesflelds, &
Thorntons and the Parkinsons were utterij
beaten, and their colours lowered. Mr. Fto
gerald, of Ormsby Green, had proposed ; and
Mrs. Chesterton shed tears as she consentri
that he should marry her dowerlcss Erel&it
to his ten thousand a-ycar.
" For you know, Mr. Fitzgerald — ^yon «!■*
know by your own love — that I am making i
most painful sacrifice for my darling's ba|ife j
ncs.s. If it were not that she loves roa w I
much— the fond, foolish child ! — I 3o aot '
think that I could part with her. But ^ (i
has fixed her whole heart on you. WW J
can I do but make the sacrifice of all that I 11
have left me now on this earth to love,"— {«
retrospective sob for General Chesterton, rli
departed this life fifteen long years ago)—
" and en.sure her happiness at tho expense rf
my own ? No, Mr. Fitzgerald I I am not t
selfish mother. Take her, since you love I*
and she loves you, and God bless you both!*
Mrs. Chesterton wept afWsh. As she sobbed,
Eveline entered the room. Her rouod,
dimpled, waxen checks were flushed. Sheta*
her mother, with the lace pocket-handkei^tf
^
{
GtariM DUtaM.]
A SPLENDID MATCH.
151
to her fare, and slie nished to her, throwing
herself on her knees beside the ehair ; and,
caressing her gently glanced all the time, as
if by steolth, at Mr. Fitzgeraldi then, lower-
ing her eyes suddenly when they saw that his
were hxeti broad and wide upon her.
" Poor, dear child !" said Mrs. Chesterton,
smoothing her hair, with a glance and a
gesture that demanded Mr. Fitzgerald's
adinirntion. It was very pretty hair, glossy
bright and golden, and worthy of Uie time,
labour and cxpen.sc bestowed on it; for
Eveline's hair cost hor almost as much as her
feet.
"Ah, Mr. Fitzgerald!" continued the
mother, sighing, " what a treasure I nm
giving into your hands ! May you vahio it
as you ought, and guard it us carefully as her
mother h.is done.''
'■ Wlmt is the matter, mamma? What do
you mean f" demanded Miss Eveline in an
agitated voice. She raised her eyebrows and
opcnod her large blue eyes with a look of
wonder that wa.s perfect.
" De.'ii i'. creature! She at Iea<;t
has iR'V. i !cd on this monicnt! Oh
Mr. FitZf;' i.ii'i — eharles, if I may call j'ou
so," added the lady, with a sudden e.Tpan-
sivcne.ss of manner, such as people have on
the stage when, apropM of noljiing, they seize
each other's hands and look into each other's
litces sideway.s!, " what have you not escaped
in those Crawford and MacclesQvld girls; and
what have you gained in my sweet Kvcline I
Do you think they would have been as
innocent as this dear guileless child ?"
"Agnes Crawford is a very good girl,"
Charles said, in a voice that was a strtmge
mixture of timidity and boldness. " I don't
think she was either a flirt or a schemer."
" Pirlmps not," tlio lady replied hastily;
" Ak'ics in;iy be an exception to her family."
" UiU what docs all this mean, iniunnia ?"
again inquired Eveline; seeing an angry spot
beginning to bum on her lover's cheek, which
she iv;i« hftlf afraid might burn through the
marri.ige contract
" It means, my love," answered Mrs.
Chesterton, calling op her broad bland smile
in a moment, " that I have interpreted ymir
wishes and spoken from yonr heart. I have
promised your h.and where you have given
your love, naughty child ! ' — tapping her
cheek — " to our dear Charles Fitzgerald — •
your future hu.sband, and my beloved son,"
"'Charles — Mr. Fitzgerald !" said Eveline.
" 0, m.ntniiia!" she added, hiding her face,
Charles was intoxicated with joy; and, en-
couraged by a .sign from Mrs. Chesterton, took
the little hand which lay buried beneath the
ringlets poure<l out on the mother's lap.
lie pressed it nervously. With a strong
grasp, it must he confessed, and awkwardly.
''O! how he hurts me — the clumsy man I"
muttered Eveline, disengaging the mangled
member, ai! if from bashfulness, and pkmging
it among her mother's interlaced fingers.
Her ring.'; hn<l m.idc a deep indentation and
B broad i i her tender little fingers,
and Mrs ■ ii saw that she must have
suffered a great deal However, she giivo
her an expressive admonition with her knee,
which said plainly, " Don't mind a little pain
— it is well bought." And Eveline abandoned
her small fair hand again to her maladroit
lover, who squeezed it even more unmercifully
whiln pouring forth a flood of love and happi-
ness, and childlike .security in the bright
promises of the future that made Eveline
yawn behind her handkerchief; driving her
at last to count verses on her lingers.
"If this is love," she thought, "love is
a horrid bore. 0, when will he have done!
How tired I am! How I wish that Horace
Graham would come in. This little man would
be obliged to lie quiet, then, and go away."
Charles nil the time was in tho seventh
heaven; i' ' ■ ^c had carried up his^i/inc,"*
with him, ii the .same golden garment
of love with himself. As he did not suspect,
he undert>too<l nothing of the ennui of sjited
ambition, which a keener vi.sion would have
read in every word and gesture of the girl,
and tortured the heart which, he believed, he
was enrapturing by the passionate babble of
his unanswered love. It was very late before
he gave the llrst threat of going away, and
much later before he bad gained sulficient
moral counige to fulfil it. And even then ho
lingered till the girl was in despair; telling"
her in a very doleful voice — half-solibing him-
»cir — "Not to weep; ho would como very
early to-morrow!"
Eveline did almost cry from weariness.
And, when Mrs. Chesterton said, in dressing-
gown and curl-papers, with tlie air of a
workn->an at supper or a cabinet minister
after dinner, with the peculiar satisfiution
inspired by repose after labour — " I give you
joy, my de.ir ! Ten thou-sand a year, and
only a mother with a mere jointure, chirged
on the estate. And I have heard that old
Mrs. Fitagerald has a heart-disease" — Eveline's
only answer wa.s, " Ten thousand k year dearly
paid for too, mammx As j-ou would say
yourself if you were going to bo married to
half an idiot!" Then, tearful and pouting
she went (o bed to dream of waltr.es and
polka,s with Horace Graham, and to act ima-
ginary scenes of tempest and stonn with
Charles.
Charles Fitzgerald, good and amiable as ho
was, did in truth almost justify Eveline's
harsh expression from his excessive weakness
of character and tenuity of intellect He was
one of those credulous, generous, kind-hearted
beings who are tho chartered dupes of the
worhl. A man who thought it a sin to
beUeve any kind of evil, no matter of whom
or what ; who denied the plainest evidence if
condemnatory, and who interpreted the most
potent fact of guilt into so much conclusive
proof of innocence : a man who could not
receive truth, and who did not require it; but
162
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
-(Olo4acM *T
who was contented to slumber awaj hia days
on optimist fallacies and rose-water possibi-
lities ; a man without nerve or muscle, weak,
unliable, and womanly. His temperament
was nervous; his habits shy; his manners
reserved. Ho had a dislike that was almost
abhorrence for society, and a dewirc that was
almost n mania for solitude and a rural life
of love.
Mrs. Fitzgerald was at breakfast at
Onnsby Green, when she received a letter
from her son, announcing his intended mar-
riage with Miss Chesterton, "the only child
of a deceasiid General OHiccr ; a Lady as re-
markable for her Beauty as for her Virtue,"
he said, with a nervous flourish ainoTig the
capitals. The letter was written very af-
fectionately and respectfully ; but gave not
the most distant hint of compliance with
the mother's views, should they be opposed
to the marriage. On the contrary, tlie
energetic determination expa-ssed under dif-
ferent forms throughout three pages and a
half "of making his adored Eveline his own
at the earliest pos.sible opportunity," showed
no present intention of reference to Mrs. Fitz-
gerald in any way. lie neither a.-ikcd her
advice nor waited her concurrence; but in
every line that passionate doggedness of a
weak mind which admits no second opinion
and requires no aiding counsel, Mrs. Fitz-
gerald's heart sank within her. She had
heard of the Chestertotis, and dreaded ihnn.
However, as Ciiarles had asked her to the
wedding, and as Eveline had enclosed a short
note also — written on ])ink paper with violut-
coloured ink — Mrs. Fitzgerald determined on
seeing the bride herself before she allowed
presentiments to degenerate into prejudices.
" Ihit Charles is so very very weak !" she
thought, "I have always dr<>ttded his falling
into the snares of a family of schemers; and
few, none indeed, except some rare nature
like that of Agnes Crawford, which could
Bcc and love his goodness in spite of his mental
defects, would marry him except for his mo-
ney. Itutfiuch women," she further thought,
with a sigh, "do not write with violet ink on
pink pa[ier scented with patchouli; and they
d') not write such a hand as this."
Mi-s. Fitzgerald determined to go to Lon-
don, where the Chestertons lived in a pretty
little cotuige at Hrompton, to judge for
hiirsclf, by knowledge rather than by fear;
anxious and willing to prove herself in the
WTonjT, and hoping to be self-convicted of
injustice. When she arrived, she was obliged
to confess tliat everything in the house was
arranged with consummate taste, and that
Mrs. Chesterton was a well-bred woman,
of the gay, worldly, party-giving kind;
nf the well-fitting sick gown and family
lace cap kind; of the kind that delights
in veils; and revels in tlnjunces, and wears
numerous ends of riblion floating in all
directions; of a fashionable, talkative, and
clear-headed kind; a very ditfercnt va-
riety of English gentlewoman to the gnre
matron who came from her country seat
like some old chitelaine of romance, mod
who looked on the modern world with her
deeply fwt grey eyes — grave with the wisdom
of nature — as a sage might watch m
child's game beneath the trees. She was
struck with Eveline's extreme beauty. Yet
tlic shallow nature, vain, artiScial, and un-
loving, was evident as well. A dark
shadow spread out before her when she
saw standing before her eyes the future wife
of her beloved son. Long times of p»ain and
disappointment were woven in with every
breath and gesture of the girl. A <mralL,
light, cliildish thing, with large blue eyes,
ond long briglil hair; a figure perfect in its
proportions and a complexion dazzling in
its waxen bloom ; a damsel with false, fair
words, and with caressing w.nys. She knew
what the future must bring; she eaw the
>\reck beating against the treacherous sands,
and watched the precious freight of love and
trust scattered to the waves of despair. She
knew that Eveline would bring only anguish
to her home, and she set herself to endeavour
to avert it.
But remonstnuiccs were useless. Charlei
was bcwitchcJ, and his mother's warnings
only in-itated him. lie oiikcd her coldly, |
" What fiiult .she found with .Miss Chesterton,
that she sliould thus endeavour to make kiu
forfeit his plighted honour?" j
" A want of stability of character," bcgii {
Mrs. Fitzgerald. 1
" How proved, Mother ?" '
"Too evident to require any proo£ If ii
proved by every word and look."
" Vou find it perhaps in her beauty I*
continued Charles. " Does this evident injJ»-
bility of character, which you have seen tti
glance in your first short interview, lie in h«
uyi's, because they are blue and bright ; orii
her hair, because it is fine and g^lossy? Isil
in her small hands or in her tiny feet? fori
don't think you know her well enough yet II
judge by anything but cxtemaK You h**
not probed her mind very deeply."
The young man's tone was hard and 4jJ
his manner defiant, and his eyes angry Ul
fixed. Mrs. Fitzgerald hail never heard aai
an accent from her son before. She wH
shocked and wounded ; but her tears
deaert sand.
She applied herself to Eveline. Sh«'
of her son's virtues, but she spoke also
his weakness; and asked the girl " if sdie "
weighed well the consequences of her cl
— if she had reflected on her life with
iierrous and irritable man ; self-willed »«4!
unable to accept argument or persuasioa
Eveline to.ssed her head and said, it
" very odd, that Mrs. Fitzgerald, his mi
sliould be the only one to speak ill
Charles ; that, indeed, be was not
than other people; and as for being ii
uothtng could be more amiable than he
to her. She thought that if people only knew
how to mfinage him, and caroU to givo way
to his little peciilittritics — and we all have
peculiarities — he would be quite a lamb to
live with !" Sho added also, " that she saw
through the motive of Mrs. Fitzgerald's advice,
whii'U w."Ls to gft a rich wife for htr .son."
The attempt wts hopeless. Between folly
and knavery the sterling worth and honesty
of the mothur fell dead, and all that she had
done was simply to embroil herself with both
her Bon and her daughter. Thing.s went on
without her consent pretty much as they
would have done with it, and of all the party
she was the only one who fiuffcrc<L The
wedding-day camo amidst smiles and lau);hter
from all but her. Even Eveline merged her
personal distaste for Charles in her gratified
ambition, and Mrs. Chesterton was more
pseudo-French, and dressy than ever. Eveline
looked undeniably lovely. The church wa.s
crowded with the Chestertons' friends, all
saying among themselves, " How beautiful she
is!" a few, such as Horace Graham of the
Guard?, adding, " and what a fool she is
marrying ;" or, "by Jove, what a life she
will lead that mufln'"
After the honeymoon — that prescribed
season of legal bliss^Mr. and Mrs. Charles
Fitzgerald came back to London. She, radiant
with smiles and happiness, at escaping from
the tedium of her country life ; where sh«
had been bored to death ; where she had
yawned all day, and where she had slept when
ahe was not yawning. He, saddened to think
that his green hines must be abandoned, his
evening walks in the moonlight in the wood
forvgonc, and his young dream of quiet hap-
piness exchanged for the turmoil called plea-
sure. Yet when in town he found another
pleasure in the h»ppines.s of Eveline. For ho
had been obliged to confess to himself that she
was often aoti and melancholy in the country ;
and now it was such a pleasure to see her
dimpling smiles and hear her merry laugh
again. He said she had got tircil of Dnnsby
Green, liccause she was away from her mother
— she wanted to see her motliLT; dear child!
«hc had never left her before ; and it was a
very sweet and natural feeling in her, and he
loved her all the more for it.
When they arrived home — Mrs. Chester-
ton's cottage answering that purpose for the
present — the iirst person they met was
Horace Graham, looking more handsouie
and impudent than ever. He had called in
by chance, he said ; and hearing that " .Mrs.
Charles" was expected, he had stayed jubt to
shake hands with his old friend. Eveline
thanked him very prettily, and then asked
him tn spend the evening with them bo
eng»!?ini;ly that Charles was fiiin to second
the inviintion, which he did with an awk-
WjtrJ attempt at cordiality that did his powers i
of flissimulation no credit. But Horace ac-
Ct'ptwl the invitation in his off-lianded way,
ka J the erwmag passed merrily euough ; he
singing to Eveline's playing, and Charles ap-
plauding in the middle of bars, and saying,
" but the next vei-se ?" when all was Hnished,
A hou.<;c was bought in Belgravia. It
was furnished with citrenie tlegance, and
did honour to the decorative taste of
Mrs. Chesterton, sho liaving been extra-
ordinarily active among the upholsterers and
decorators. With their new house began the
young couple's new life. Charles bore hia
part in the whirlpool that it became bravely;
anil, for the first three months, was all that
the most dissipated woman of the world
could require in the most complaisant of
husbands. A strange kind of peace rested
between the married pair. Strange, because
unnatural — the violent binding together of
two opposing natures: the lurid stillness that
glide.'j on before a storm : a peace that was
not the peace of love, nor of sympathy, nor of
respect ; that was the peace of indecision, the
peace of ignorance, the peace of fear, and
worst of all, the peace of slavery.
Mrs. Fitzgerald was in the country, brood-
ing mournfully ovtr the angry silence of her
son ; for he bad not yet forgiven her inter-
ference in his marriage. But she would not
understand it thus, and wrote often tohim and
to Eveline grave, kind, earnest letters ; speak-
ing much to her of her son's goo<lnes.<i, and
susceptibility of nature, and feeling sure that
Eveline was all that a fond mother could wish
in the wife of a son. Xt last Eveline no
longer read the letters ; she tlirew them aside,
crying, " The tiresome old woman ! as if I did
not know every word of her sermon before-
hand 1" And saying this before her husband
too, from whom ,>;he did not care to hido her
open contempt of his mother. Indeed, em-
boldened by his timid compliance with all
her wishes, and his weak ap])roval of all her
actions, she cared to hide very little that was
disagreeable ; and more than once startled
him with exhibitions of temper and of
coldness. Charles was fretted at hia wife's
indifference, fretted at Horace Graham's
constant presence, and at the undt.sguiscd
good understanding that existed between him
and Eveline ; fretted at Mrs. Chesterton's
contcmptHDua manner of interfering in hij
hou.sehnld urrangemenLs, and at her assertion
of motherly rights superior and opposed to
his own, over his wife ; fretted at the con-
stant round of dissipation in which ttiey
lived, and at the breaking up of all liia fairy-
castles of bliss and quiet ; fretted at thi.n, and
at that, and at everything, and in the fair
way of falling .scriou.sly ill with some brain
or nervou.s alfcetion.
" You will not go to the ball tonight, Evy if"
he said one day, in a timid but querulous
voice, flinging himself wearily on a sofa. They
had bven married aboiH four months, and
were very unhappy in .secret; although no-
thing had been said or don* openly.
" Why not, Charles?" asked hia 'Kvfc^wJi'BSLf.
•
164
HOUSEHOLD WORDa
iea«MMdkf
j) uikct;
iL
" I am too nervous, too ill and unotrung to
go with TOO," he answered, " and I thought
that perhaps you would stay at home wicti
ino, and read. Will you, Evy ?" He took
her lijind — still the same timid manner.
" dear me, no ? Stay at home ? 0, no I
You had better go to bed if you arc ill,"
Eveline said, leaving her hand cold and dead
in his. " That will be much wiser than sitting
up half the night reading stupid poetry that
only makes one yawn and go to sleep.
I will tell Justine to give you anything you
want when I am away ; but really you had
better go to bed at once."
Charles let her hand fall. " Who is going
with you, then, as I cannot ?" he said.
Eveline walked away to the mirror, hum-
minffa tune and arranging herbouquet "My
mother — " she said. " And Horace Graham,"
she added, turning suddenly round, fixing her
eyes on her husband with a peculiar look.
A look that defied suspicion, and was before*
hand with objection. A look that conquered,
because it wounded, Charles, and made him
humble and submissive.
He rose from the sofa slowly, and passed
into the libranr, there to fret like a sorrowing
child ; scarcely knowing what ho thought or
what he ought not to think; feeling only
that his happiness was slipping from his
grafip, and that he wh.s being left alone on a
desolate shore without hope and without
love.
This was the first rising of the mask — the
first confessed declaration of indifference — a
declaration repeated subsequently every day
and every hour. Eveline was never at home.
Morning and evening alike saw her drowned
in the world's great sea of pleasures ; every
home affection cast aside, ond every wifely
duty unfulfilled. Gaiety was her life ; and,
without this gaiety, she would die, she would
say. Charles grew ill, and certainly exces-
sively strange and disagreeable in his beha-
viour. For hours together he would sit
without speaking, his lips pressed against
each other, and his dull eyes fixed on tho
ground. Then came fits of passion, which
were like the throes of madness — fits that
terrifit'd Eveline, and made her fear for her-
self. To these a violent reaction succeeded ;
a period, generally very brief, of frantic
gaiety and restless pleasure-seeking, such as
incoTiimoded Eveline greatly, binding him to
her side without release ; and under the ap-
pi-nrance of complaisance, giving her a gaoler
and a spy. Often at such times, struck to the
heart with something he had seen, chilled
by something he had heard, Fitzgerald would
fall back again into his mournful stupor, and
drag out his weary life with the listless,
ho[)pIes3 expression in his face and in his
whole manner of a condemned criminal.
The world began to talk. It talked,
although gently, of Eveline's open flirtation
with Horace Graham ; gently, becau.se it j
talked also of Charles Fitzgerald's jealousy |
and strange irritability ; of his violence and
his fearful temper. On the other hand, it
spoke of his evident unhappiness, and of the
contempt showered on him by his wife and
his adopted lamily ; it darkly adumbrated a
lunacy commission on one side, and Doctors'
Commons on the other. At last the whisper
grew so long and loud that it spread down
to Ormsby Green, and penetrated to VLn.
Fitzgerald. The echo of this dread whisper
had sounded long ago in her own heart ; she
had looked for its coming ; and when it found
her, she started without an hour's delay for
London ; and, not caring for the cold reception
she would probably meet with, she presented
herself at once at tho house of her son.
Eveline was from home. She was riding in
the park with Horace, to try a horse he bad
that day bought for her. Charles was in
the library, sitting in one of those dumb, dull
sorrows that are far more painful to witncH
than the most turbulent passion.
He looked up with his glazed fiery eyes aa
his mother entered ; and started and stared
wildly, rising and retreating as if he did not
know her, but trying with 4II his might to
recognise her. She came forward, speikinf
cheerily and kindly.
" Well, Charles, my love, I have taken yon
by surprise I" she said. But her voice failed;
he was so wild and altered. He kept his
eyes tipon her for some time, and then with
a cry that came straight from tho sad hcai^
almost breaking it, with sobs wild and UA,
and tears which fell like blighting rain, Fiti- 1
gerald exclaimed, " Mother, mother, you hare '
come to see me die I" i
The line of ice was thawed, the band ft '
iron was broken, the stifled heart cried oit '
aloud, and the love that had been thniit '
back into the darkness came forth again. He '
was no longer alone with nothing but ia-
difference or enmity to bear him companj. j
He had now his own best friend, the guardiia |!
of his youth, his friend and guide : he migU j
count now on one heart at least, and belien j
that it loved him. He poured out his grief f
ances to her. They were all very vague and ['
indefinite; simply wounded feelings, or af&^ -
tions misunderstood ; no startling facta, a* '
glaring wii^kedncss, no patent actions. M I
she understoo<l, and sympathised with Ui
sufferings ; impalpable as they were. Sta
soothed and comforted him, calming Iiil
irritated nerves and weaving bright dream
of hope for the future. Dreams, in which «!«•
believed nothing herself, and which smoii
her conscience as falsehoods when she taU
them.
Next morning she spoke to Eveline, ii
her grave, blaml, gracious manner, and gin
her serious counsel, sweetening her cenm*
with assurances of her trust in the pSAf
wife's good intentions — " but then too in
young, my child, and youth is often c'urion^
heedless!" But Eveline gave herself oa-
numbered airs, and was very iU-U8bd, andw'
T
tlWtM t)Vl[«fl*.)
A SPLENDTD MATCH.
155
" that indeed she was a better wife than most
eirls would have been to any one so cross and
disagreeable as Charles ; and that Airs. Fitx-
gcrnlil had better speak to him about his
temjier than to her about hers."
IJoweviT, Mrs. Fitzgerald's mere presence
was a comfort to her son ; and ho gf)t calmor
and milder now that he could sjieak of
his sutTerings, and that some one cared to
soiithe th.'ni away. .41 first Eveline, being
awed in spite of herself by Mrs. Fitzgerald,
behaved with some small attention to appear-
ances, so that the young household sat in the
Buashine again. Horace Graham, t*M>, hap-
pened to go away just at this moment; con-
sequently a conjunction of faTourablc stars
seemed to shed rays of domestic happiness
over the gaudy, meretricious household.
But riorace came back one Thursday after-
noon, and Eveline invited him to dinner.
She pressed him to come when, as usual,
he refused for the childish plea-'ure of bcinj;
entreated. Charles had s nervous attack
when he heard this, aoH (hen gave way to so
terrible a (it of pa.^.^ion in Eveline's dressing-
room, that he shoivod at last how obnoxious
(ho young guard.smnn was to him. Eveline
ctrery now and then looked at him with
flashes of scorn and contempt which may be
called deatlly. .\t last turning from him with
a spurning action, she .=aid, " Charles, if I had
known you as I do now, not twice ten
thousand a-yc.ar would have tempted me to
r marry you : you are not like a man. You
I are worse than a chiM or a woman I" Then
she went on arranfcing the most becoming
trtilette her busy fanc}' could devise.
Charles conquered him'jclf at last, and
managed to appear nt dinner with some show
of calmness. Eveline was so extremely gay
th.1t she became quite overpowering. She
armed herself with all the little graceful
coquetries she kni'w so well how to employ,
each in their right time and place, and
heightened them in revenge for her late en-
forced cessation from all excitement while
grudgingly going through the dull ta-k of
ple.osinga .sick husb.ind and a rigid matron.
Even Mrs. Fitzgerald, who bad expected much,
Arrts Kiirpri.'sed at the open manner in wliii-h her
flirtation with Graham went on ; and, although
lii-Iicving It to be nothing more ro.il than the
folly of B vain girl, yet she could not deny
its grave appearance, nor the compromise
that it made of her son's honour. She deler-
inincd to speak to Rvcline seriously, and to
endeavour — by arguments, if affection were
of no use; by threats, if arguments fell dfad
— to open her eyes to the true knowlt'dge of
hcn^lf and her conduct, and to force her to
aljfindon a farce that might end in tragedy.
Eveline seemed to foresee this lecture ; for
tiotliing could induce her to meet Sfrs. Fit/,-
^c-rald's cye-S, She shrank from her words
%nd drowned them in thick showers of hatitcr
.With Horace ; in her behaviour (o whom there
Was a kind of deflanco and bravado, that
betrayed as much fear of the ftjlure as in-
difference of the present.
In the evening they strolled out into the
little garden ; for they boasted a plot of
blackened ground dignified by that sweet
name of fruits and flowers — Eveline and
Horace wandering away together, and Charles
and his mother returning .soon to the house.
Speaking to his mother of Eveline, a flash of
his old tenderness returned, and with it his
old h!itre<l to believe in evil. After all,
Eveline was young and giddy. She meant
no harm, and did not know the full signi-
ficance of what she did. She was his wife too
— she must be gently dealt with. He could
not bear to henr her condemned. When
his mother replied to him, he shrank ner-
vously from every subject which threatened
to lead to a discussion on her conduct. Mrs.
Fitzgerald read his heart, niid kept sQent
But while he was thus careful, he was also
haunted, restless and tormented ; and at last,
unable to contain himself, he went into the
garden, where the sh.idows had deepened into
darkness, walking nlowly and .silenlly towards
the quiet trees planted to hide the upper
w*ll. Horace and F^veline were there, seated
on a bench togutluT. They w<'re talking low,
but talking love — if such frothy vanity could
be called love — and "dearest Horace," and
" beloved Eveline," were often mingled with
their t.ilk. They sat, like two silly children,
h:in<l in band.
Chiirles .<tole back to the house, and entered
— a creature from whom life and soul bad
departed. Eveline had seen liim : and ho
knew that she had seen him. There was
no more disguise ; and, as she said, " dis-
covery- had at least spared her the necessity
of deception." She threw otf the Him.sy veil
she had hitherto worn, and boasted openly of
her love fnr Horuce ; still coupling it with
perfect in noeency. Which was true. For
indeed she was too shallow and too in-
trinsic.'dly selfish to conmiit herself, eren
where she loved.
After this discover}', and the distressine
scone between the husband and wife whien
followed it, Eveline went out more than
ever, and was with Horace more than ever
also ; ninny pifj'ing her for being married
to a jealiius irrit.iblc fool, ntid lamenting
that such H lovely young creature should
have been so .sacrificed by an ambitious
mother, against her ovm expres.scd inclina-
tions; many more deploring her wayward,
sy.-itelnatic neglect of Imt husband.
Charles Fitzgerald's eccentricities of temper
— his bursis of pa.s.sion and of violence,
niirvgled with fits of silence and of gloom —
became every djy more marked. Even his
mother was no longer a .soothing or a restmiiv-
ing influi'nco ; but, capricious, violent, irritable
and uncerliiin, he ina<lc his home a Hades for
others, as his wife had made his life a torment
for him. At last his language became, oc-
casionally, so bitter and \nivma,V>tA, -., ica^
1
I
I
L
more than onco, his arm had been niscd to
strike, and more than once hU linnd, tnristrd
in the nieshcs of her Lair, h«d threatened her
with death — that EveHnc was justified in
dcmandini; a legal sepanition. She -was
adrised that tho law could not grant it,
unless both parties consented ; and Charles
vehemently refused. But what the law
denied, Nature gave. A thousand airy no-
things of speech and conduct, each inno-
cent apart, all maddening together, had
worked on the hushanU'fi weak brain until
they produced an unsettlement of intellect,
which a few days of wifely tenderness might
have prevented. The world only said that
Eveline wast right in consenting that her
husband should be placed in rejttraint — poor,
young, beautil\il thing, married to euch a
terrible per.son 1 Charles was placed in
proper hand-;. The blow was struck beneath
the ap[ilaudings of Eveline's wide circle
of adniiring accjuaintances. She took refuge
among her crowd of simpering sympathiscm,
and was received with ail honour and pity,
like some martyred saint There were some,
however, who made her feel the just meed of
her bad, selfish career, and would not notice
her.
After a time Charles gradually grew better,
and ho and hi:! mother wandered away to
Brussels ; but there bis " eccentricities of
temper" became more and more violent ; so
that at last even his mother was forced to arm
herself with legal power to protect him from
himself. For at length he became mad —
mad for life ; mad with a lingering madness,
that left no hope and that gave no rest; wan,
wild, raving — haunted ever by a false fair
face, that glided from his chusping hands, and
denied his fevered tips.
Eveline's pensive air, and eyes veiled
beneath their drooping lids (which she knew
to be extremely effective in society), gained
more syrapntliy than the niadman's ravings
and the madman's sorrows. Ptople only shook
tJieir heads, and said, '■ IVliat that young
creature must have sulfercd in her married
life I — and how heroically she concealed it
firom the world !" and " Let us be kind to the
pretty little woman, for her lot has been a
■ad one, and her anguish meekly borne I"
A LAMENT FOR THE SUMMER.
MoAK, oh ye Antnmn Winds !
Summer has fled,
The flowers hnvc doned llieir tender leaves and die ;
The LilyV g^raoious hoad
All low niiMt lie.
Because the gentle Summer now is dead.
Grieve, oh ye Autumn Winds!
Sommcr licii low,
The ro<te'H trembling leAvea will soon be shed j
For Hhe that loved her no,
Alas, is dead :
And oao by one her loving ohildrea go.
Wail, oh 30 Autumn Winds!
Slio livci no Dioro,
The eentlo Summer, with her bnlmy hrcfltb,
Still iwcclcr than before
When nearitr death,
And briglitcr every day tlio smile ilis wore I
Monm, mourn, oh Autumn Winds,
I I inooni;
Uo'v. Mown bodx muKt close and die;
II , ': the summer born
AU fiulAa lie,
And leave us dceolate and earth furioro t
MORE PLACES WANTED.
I S LADY'S-MAIP.a yoiinf nf.n.on wlio hn* lived
-■1 In the flr»t f•^llM<-^ trKl r»n li»vi> ft>iir yvan* f««4
oharwipr. Fully uniler^Undi ilrnMnalilnK. bslritrrasinc
snd getting iip Ano linen. Address MIm T^ llunty't U-
i/my, Cttt* TtTTM*, nmlloo.
Mi.ss Fanny Tariatan, the yoimg lady in
quest of a situntion, doos notrtrside atBuntr's
library, ^fr. Runty and .Mr. Runty'ii wifewv
only friends of hers. Mr. Bunly is t.ill and
stout, with a white neckcloth, and i.-i very like
a clergyman, with a daah of tho Sfhoolniaslcr
and a .•sma^'k of the butler. Mrs. Bnnty la an
acrid hidy in ribbons, with a periietual umilo
for lady customers ; which would be a little
more agreeable if it did not twist her neck,
and screw her mouth up, and tortuate her
body over tho counter. At Runty 's library
are three-volume novels bound in dashine
cloth ; and Bunty's library is carpeted ; and
in the centre thereof is a great round table
groaning beneath the weight of ladies' albums,
and tvorks of genteel jiicty, and trctUiaes
written with a view to induce a state
of contentment among the rural popul^.
tion (l*t-pressod and with gilt edges,) to-
getlier with neatly stitched pamphlets upon
genteelly religious and political snHji-c-tg^
and haiultiomely clasped church servic<«,
with great red crosses on their backs and
sides.
No ; Miss Tarlatan docs not live at
Runty'a ; but she is an old colleague of Mr&
Bunty's (onco Miss Thorneytwig, my Lady
Crocus's waiting woman, ) and calls her Ma-
tilda, and is by her called " Fanny, and a deal
giri ;" and therefore she gives Bunty's library
as an addres.i : it being considered more aris-
tocratic than Tidlers' Gardens; where, in the
house of Mrs. Silkey, that respectable milliner
and drcf^stnakcr, Miss Tarlatan is at present
staying.
She can drcis hair, make drMsea, and per*
fectly understands gelling up fine linen. The
French coiffeur is still a great personage;
but his BervicoH are now-a-days often supplied
by the lady's-maid ; and there are many hit
and noble ladies who are not too superb to
employ MIrs Tarlatan, and go resplendent
from her skill, into the presence of their
Bovcrcign, or into the melodious vicinity of
the aingers of the Italian opera. Also to
\
CWvUt D cWnl.]
MORE PLACES WANTED,
167
wear ball and court dresses made, not by the
pallid workwomen and "first hands" of the
p-cat millintry establishments of the NV'cst-
Eod, but by the nimble fingers of Fanny
Tarlatan. Also to conlide to her sundry price-
less treasiirvs of Malines &nd UrusiM:ls, Honi-
ton and old point, or " Beggar's lace," sprigged
shawls and veils, and such marrels of fine
things, to bo by her got up. All of which
proceedings are characteriaed by the great
millinery establishments, by the fashionable
hlanehiMevtet d^jin, and by M. Anatole, eoi/-
Jhir, of Regent Street, as atrocioms, mean,
Stingy, avaricious, and unjustifiable on the
part of miUdi ; but which, if they suit her
to order and Miss Tarlatan to undcrtAkc, arc
in my mind, on the broad-gauge of free tmde,
perfectly reasonable and justittable. Sijiae
ladies make a merit of their Tarlatanism,
stating, with pride, that their maids "do
everything for them;" others endeavour
uneasily to defend their economy by referent-e
to the hardness of the times, to their lar^ro
families, to the fiiiluro of revenue from my
lord's Irish estates, to the extravagance of
such and such a son or heir, or xo Sir John
having lost enormously in railways or by
electioneering. One lady I have heard of
who piilliated all domestic retrenchments on
the ground of having to pay so much income-
tax. Unhappy woman 1
HairdrcssiT, dressmaker, gctter-up of fine
linen; skilled in cosmetics and perfumes;
tasteful arranger of bouquets ; dexterous
cleaner of gloves (for my lady must have two
pairs of clean gloves a day, and, Iwuntiful
as may be her pin-money, you will rarely
find her spending one tbou.sand and thirty
times three shillings per annual in gloves) ;
artful trimmer of bonnets; clever linguist;
of great conversational powers in her own
Lingnage; of untiring industry, cheerful nes?,
and good temper — all these is Fanny Tarlatan,
aged twenty-eight I have a great respect
for Fanny Tarlatan, and for the Indy's-nmid,
gencrically, and wish to vindicate her from
the slur of being a gossiping, tAwdry, in-
triguing, venal waiting-maid, as which she is
generally represented in novels and plays, and
eiinilar performances.
Fanny iit not without personal charms. She
has ringlets that her lady migh#cnvy, and
the comely good-humoured look which eight-
aod-twcnty is often gilded with. She ha.^ been
resolute enough to steel her heart against the
advances of many a dashing courier, of many
an accomplished valet, of many a staid and
portly butler. She does not look for matri-
mony in the World of Service. Mr. Wh.it-
ntxt^ at the firmt Ilaberda.'^hery Pal.ice,
Froppery Ilnuse, head man there, indeed
(though Mr. Bigg'?, my lord's gcrtleuwn, Im.s
iinetrinKir alluded to him as a "low cnuiitiT-
jumpcr'*), has spoken her fair. JcUyttn, tiie
rising pastryeOf>k at Gunti-rV, has openly
avowed his ma Idcning passion, ami showed
ber his saTings' bank book. But thnt did
I not daule her ; for she too has a " little bit
of money of her own." Her revenues chiefly
lie, not m her wages — they are not tooam^e
— but in her perquisites. Lawyers womd
starve (figuratively, of course, for 'tis im-
poiwiblc for a lawyer to starve under any cii^
cumstanccs) on the bare six and cightpences
— it i.-i the extra costs that flitten. Perqui-
sites are Fanny Tarlatan's costs. To her fall
all my lady's cast-off clothes. Their amount
and value depend upon my lady's constitu-
tional liberality or parsimony. A dress may
be worn once, a week, a month, or a year be-
fore it reverts to the lady's-maid. So with
gloves, shoes, ribbons, and all the other
weapons in the female armoury, of which I
know no more than Saint Anthony did of the
sex — or that Levantine monk Mr. Curzon
made us acquainted with, who had never
tfen a woman. Old Lady McAtlielj're, with
whom Fanny lived before slic went to the
Coimtess of Coeurdesart's (Lady Mc.V. was
a terrible old lady, not unsuspected of a
penchant for shopliAing and drinking eau de
cohgne grog), u.scd to cut up all her old
dresses for aprons, and the fingers off her
gloves for mittens, and was the sort of old
lady altogether who might reasonably b«
expected to skin a (lea for the hide and tallow
thereof. Mrs. Colonel Scraw, Fanny's mis-
tress after L.idy C'oeurdesart, made her old
clothes her own peculiar perquisites, and sold
thcHi herself. Hut such exceptions arc nire,
and Fanny h(i.s had, on the whole, no great
reason to complain. Perhaps you will, there-
fore, at some future time, meet with her
under the name of Whatnext, or Jellytin, or
Figgles, or Scaknle, in a snug, well-to-do
West-End bu.sines.«, grown into a portly
matron {with ringluts yet; for they are vital
to the lady's-maid through life) wnth two
little girls tripping home from Miss Wcazel'a
dancing academy. I hope so, witli all my
heart.
There is a custom common among the
English nobility, and yet peculiar to that
privileged class, to get the best of everything.
Consequently, whenever they find foreign
cooks and foreign nutsicians more skilful than
native talent, it is matter of noble u.sancc to
refect upon foreign di.shes ; to prefer tlie per-
formances of foreign minstrels and players ;
to cover the head, or hands, or feet, with
coverings made by foreign hands; and, even
in the ordinary conversation of life, to pepper
its discourse with foreign words, as you would
a sheep's kidney with cayenne. So my lord
duke entertains in his great mansion a French
cook, a Swiss confectioner, an Italian house
steward, a French valet, German and French
governesses, a German under-nurse or honitt
(that his children may imbibe fragments o(
foreign language with their pap), besides
a host of non-resident foreign artists and
professors gathered from almost every nati<m
under the sun. It is, therefore, but reason-
able that her grace tlio duchess shoi^ld
\
15S
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
[eWJ.t to < >y
liarc a foreign attendant — a French, or
,! Sniss, or German lady's-maid. I will take
ij Mademoiselle Batiste, warranted from Paris,
li as a sample.
i; When I saj warranted from Paris, I mean
i| what the word "warranted" is generally
j found to mean — not at all like what it pro-
j: ffssos to be. Mademoiselle Batiste says she
'I is from Paris; but she does not bear the
I, riightost resemblance to the pert, sprightly,
coquettish, tasteful, merry creation in a
i' cunning cap, a dress closed to the neck, a
plaited silk apron and fhiny shoes, tliat a
Parisian lady's-maid generally is. My
private impression is that she is a native of
! some distressingly luguljrious provincial town
in the midi of France — Aigues Mortes, per-
chance — whence she has been sent, for our
sins, to England, to make us mournful. She
is a most dolorous Abigail; a ]achryma<H>,
grumbling, doleant, miserable waiting woman.
When she is old (she is in the thirties, now,) she
will take anufT and keep a poodle on some fifth
floor in the Marais, I am sure. Whether she
has been disappointed in love, or her relations
were guillotined during the great revolution ;
whether she was bom on the eve of SL
Swiiliin, or like ApoUodorus, she nourishes
scorpions in her breast, I know not, but she
is a very grievous woman — a female knight
of the n^eful countenance. If you fail to
please her,' she grumbles; if you remonstrate
with her, she cries. What are you to do
with a woman, whose clouds always end
in rain, unless you have Patience for an
unil>n.-lla? In person, M.idoinoisulle B.-iti.sto
is tall ; in conipa.ss wofully lean and at-
tenuated ; her face is of the liatchct cast, and
she lias protruding teeth, long dark eyebrows,
stony eyes, and heavy eye-lashc.s. A sick
monkey is not a very enlivening sight;
a black man with chilblains and a fit of the
ague is not calculated to provoke cheerful-
nesis and there are spectacles more cheerful
than a workhouse funeral on a wet day;
but all these arc positively jocose and
Moinus-like compared to Mademoiselle Batiste
wailing over her lady's wardrobe, her own
wrongs, and her unhappy destin}' generally.
The climate, the fooid, the lodging, the
raiment, the tyranny of superiors, and the
insolence of inferiors : all these find a place in
the category of this melancholy lady's wn-
h:i]i|>iness. She prophesies the decadence
of Knpiland with far more fervour than
M. Lctiru RoUin. She will impress herself to
leave this detestable land ; without sun, with-
out manners, without knowledge of living.
Somehow she does not quit the detestable
land. She is like (without disrespect) that
animal of delusive promise, the conjurer's
donkey, which is always going for to go,
but seldom does really' go, up the ladder.
Mademoiselle Batiste weeps and moans, and
gnuuliles, and change« her situation in-
numeral>le limes, ami packs up her "effects"
for tho continent once a week or so ; but stays
in England after all. When she has raved
enough money, she may perhaps revisit the
land of the Gaul, and relate to her com-
patriots the a£Qiction sore which long time she
bore among ee» harharet.
In reality. Mademoiselle Batiste is an
excellent servant; she is not only apt but
erudite in all the cunning of tier craft
M. Anatole, of Regent Street, might take
lessons in hair-dressing from her. She far
surpasses )Iis8 Tarlatan in dress-making;
although she disdains to include that accom-
plishment in the curriculum of her duties
But her principal skill lies in putting on
a drew, in imparting to her mistress when
dressed an air, a grace, a tournure^ which any
but a French hand must ever despair of ac-
complishing. Yet she grumbles meanwhile ;
and when she has made a peri of a pcereaa^
sighs dolefully and maintains that an Englisb-
woman does not know how to wear a robe.
This skill it is that makes her frctfulness and
melancholia! distemper borne with by rank
and fashion. She has, besides, a pedigree of
former engagements of such magnitude and
grandeur, that rank and fashion arc fain to
bow to her caprices. The beauteous Dudtcese
dc Faribole in Paris, and tho Marqaiae de
Lysbrisie (very poor, very Legitimiiit, but
intense!}' fashionable); the famous Princesi
Ciibbagioso at Florence, Countess Moskamu-
jikofT at St. Petersburgli, the Duchess of
Champignon, the Marchioness of Truffletoo
and Lady Frances Frongus in England— aO
these high-born ladies has she delighted witii
her skill, awed with her ari.stocratic antece-
dents, and grieved with her melancholia
Although so highly skilled in dress-maldif
she pays but little regard to costume hcndC
Ilcr figure is straiglit al! the way don-n, OQ
all sides. She wears a long pendent shawl, i
dreary bonnet with trailing ribbons; aw
carries, when abroad, a long, melancboiy,
attenuated umbrella, like a parasol that hM
outgrown itself, and was wasting away in ]
despair. These, with the long dull goU
di^>ps to her ear-rings ; two flat thin smooth
bands of hair flattened upon her forehead;
long listless fingers, and long feet encaM'
in French boots of lustreless kid, gin
her an u^eakably mournful, trailing ap-
pearance. llShc sceins to have fallen ■!(»■
gcthcr into the "portion of weeds asd
outgrown facc.o." Her voice is melancho^
and tristfuUy surgant, like an .£oIian huyi
her delivery is reminLscent of the Daii
March in ^i il ; — a few wailing, lingerie
notes, claimed with a melancholy boom at ttl
end of the strophe. Adieu, MademMsA
Batiste.
There arc plenty more ladj's-maida wki
want places; and, taking into considcratioB
the increased facilities offered by the abolitioi
ofthedutyon advertisements, I sincerely hop*
they may all l>e suited satisfactorily. Bat I
cannot tarry to discu.s3 all their sevtnl
qualifications. Although I can conscicntioM^
recommend " Wilkins " (Christian name un-
known'), the Isdj-'fi-maid of middle age, and
domesticated habits, who was with Mrs.
Colonel Stodgcr during the whole of the Sutlej
campaign ; who is not too proud to tt-ach
the cook how to make curries; is reported
to have ridden (with her mifitrcss) in man's
saddle fire hundred niilca on camel's back in
India, and to have done something consider-
able towards shooting a plundering native dis-
covered in Mrs. Stodgcr'a tent. Nor would f
have yon overlook the claims of Martha Stir-
penny, who is n "young ladies'-miiid," and is
not above plain needlework ; or of Miss Catcli-
pole, the maid, nurse, companion, amanuensis,
cTcrj'tliing, for no many years to the late
Mi&s Plough, of Monday Terrace, Bayswater,
who ungratefully left all her vast wealth in
Bank and India St.xk to the " ToUl Absti-
nence from Suttee Hindoo Widows' Society,"
offices Great SL Helens, secretary. G. F. F.. IJ.
Stonevbntter, Esq. •, and be<3ueathcd her faith-
ful Catchpole, after twenty years' service, only
a silver teapot and a neatly-bound *et of the
Revereti'' !> ■ ' ■ l>"i*''i'ioxe'» sermon.s. All
these d. es, and all letters to
them uiii.„ w. ,^-.-: ^.1
AS COOK rprnfr»»cd) a Pcrwn who fully undor-
•unda h«r bnslueaa. Aildrts L., r*ttyi>«i TUce,
Oral Bnulcr Utntt.
There is something honest, outspoken, fear-
less, in this brief advertisement, L. does not
condescend to hint about the length and
quality of her character, or the distinguished
nature of the family she wishes to enter.
" Here I am," she seems to say ; " a profe.ssedl
cook. If you are the sort of person knowing
what a professed cook is, and how to use
l>cr, trj' me. Good cooks are not so plen-
tiful that they need bhout for custom.
Good wine nceda no bush. I staml u|ictn
my cooking, and if you suit me as I suit
you, nought but a spoilt dinner shall part us
two." L., whom we will incarnate for tiie tuince
itrt. I^nibswool, widow, is fat and forty,
_ . not fair. The fires of innumerable kitclien
mngfS- have swartbed her ruddy cottnlenance
to an almi'ist salainandrine hue. And .she is
jt palamaniler in temper too, is Mrs. Lamb^-
^ool, for all her innocent name. Un»bswool,
deceased tformerly clerk of the kitchen to the
Dnwdle club), knew it to his cost, poor man ;
And tor many a kept back dinner and
tinfirni.sed made dish did he sutfer in his
tiiiic -^
If Fate could V ' ■ ' ' how
celdom Fate iftien ' •• nnd
Mil* suited for 1)11" , UP It rpr J, mi.-, i^iimbs-
>l and Sir Ohyle Turrener, how excellently
■"-they would agree. Sir Chyle — who dwells
in i{an;itiiHrry Grtaccnt, Uonlover Sfjunre,
and whoso house as you pass it Btnells all
day like a cook-shop — made his handi^ome
' competence in the war time by contracts for
tnestt-bvof as execrable, and mess-biacuit as
weevily, as ever her Majesty's service, by sea
and land, spoilt their digestion and their
teeth with. He is, in these piping times of
peace, renowned as the most accomplished
epicure in the dining world. He doe* not
dine often at his cJnb, the Gigot (though that
establishment boa.<»ts of great gastronomic
fume, and entertains a head man cook at a
salary of two hundred and ilfty pounds a
year) : he accuses M. Relevay, the chef in
question, of paying more attention to the
greasing and adornment of his hair, and the
writing out of bis bills of fare in ornamental
penmanship, than to the culinary wants of
the members ; he will not have a man cook
him.self : " the fellows," he says, " are as con-
ceited as peacocks and as extravagant an
Cleopatra." Give him a woman cook — a
professed cook, who knows her business,
and does it ; and tho best of wages and the
best of places are kera, at 85, Bangmarry
Crescent,
Let us figure him and Mrs. Lambswool
together. Sir Chyle — a little applc-fttced old
gentleman with a white hearl, and as fiery
in temper as his cook— looks on Mrs. Lambs-
wool as, nest to tho dinners she eooka
and the government annuity in which (with
a sagacious view towards cheeking the ]irodi-
gality of his nephew and e.\pectjirit heir) he
has gunk his savings, tlto most important
element in his existence. He places her in
importance nnd consideration far beyond the
meek elderly female attached to his bouselinld
in the c.Tpaeity of wife — used by him chiefly
ill forming a hand at whist and in helping
fioup (ealrh Sir Chyle trusting her with ft.sh!)
and by him abused at every convenient 0[ipor-
tiinity. lie absolutely forbids any interfer-
ence on her part with the culinary economy
and discipline. " Blow up the maids as much
a.s you like. Ma'am," he considerately says,
" hut don't meddle with my cook." Mrs, L.
crows over her misti'ess accordingly, and if
she were to tell her that pea-soup was beat
made with bilberries, the poor lady would,
I dare say, take the dictum for granted.
Sir Chyle Turrener is exceedingly liberal in
all matters of his own housekeeping — although
he once wrote a letter to tho Times virulently
denouncing Roup-kitchens. When a dinner
of a superlative nature has issued from his
kitchen, he not unfrequently, in the warmth
of bis admiration, presents Mrs. Lambswool
with gratuities in money ; candidly admitting
that he gives them now, because he does not
iptcnd to leave his cook a penny when he
dies, seeing that she can dress no more din-
ners for hi m, after his decease. On grand orea-
sioiis she is summoned to the dining room, at
the conclusion of the repast, and he roinpli-
mcnt.-i her formally on tliis or that cvdinary
triumph, lie lauds her to hia friends Tom
Aitchbone, of tho Beefsteak club, Common
Councillor Podge, Sergeant Buffalo, of the
Southdown circuit, and old Sir Thomoa
Mtrrowfat, who was a pronothotax^ V.<k
4
\
160
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
40 t t»W
■ometbing, sonicwbere, some timo under a
handred ycani ago, and can nose a dinner ii\
the \ohhy (the poor old fellow can hardly hold
his knife and fork for palsy, and ihc nnpkin
tucked under his wagging old chin luoks like
a grave-cloth) with as much facility as Handot
Stated the ri-cnain!3 of King Claudius's cham-
berlain mi^ht have been discovered. It is n
strong point in the Tum-ncr and Lambswool
creed and practice to hold all cookcry-bookfi
—for any practical purpose beyond casual
reference — in great indifference, not to say
contempt Sir Chyle has Glosse and Kit-
chener, Austin and Udr, Francatelli and
Soycr, beside the Almanack des Gounnandt,
a<id the Cuisinier Royal in his library, gor-
geously bound. Ho glances at them occa-
sionally, as Dcntlty might have done St a
dictionary or a lexicon ; but ho does not tie
himself nor doos he bind his cook to blind
adherence to tliuir rules. True cookery, in
his opinion, should rest mainly on tradition,
on experience, and, pre-eminently, in the
inborn genius of the cook. Mrs. Lauibswool
holds the same opinion, although she may
express it in different language. She may
sever hare heard of the axiom : " One becomes
a cook, but one is born a roa.ster ;" but she
will tell you in her own homely language
that " roasting and biling comes nateral, and
■ome is good »l it and some i.sn'L" Her
master ha.*; lold her the story of Vatel and
his iish martyrdom, but she holds his suicide
to have been rank cowardice. " If there
Wasirt no fish," she remarks, " and it wasn't
his fault, why couldn't he have served up
something neat in the made-di.sh way, with a
bit of a speech al>out being drove up into a
oomeT?" But she bints darkly as to what
she would have done to the fishmonger.
Translixure on a spit would have been too
good for him., a wretch.
Through long years of choice feeding
night this pair roll on, till the great epicure,
Death, pounces on Sir Chyle Turrcner to
garnish hia sideboard. If dainty pa.<sturc can
improve meat, ho will be a succulent morsel.
He has fed on many things animate and
ioaninmte : Nature will return the com-
pliment then. For all here below is vanity,
and even good dinners and r)rofqs.sed cooks
cannot last for ever. The fishes linvc had
their shnro of LucuUus, anil Apiciua has
helped to grow mustard and ore.ss these
thousand years. So mi^ht the knight and the
cook roll on, I .say; but a hundred to one
if they ever come in contact The world
is very wide ; and, although the heiress with
twenty thousand ))Ouncls, who has fallen in
love with us, lives over the way, we marry
the iiouscmaid, and our heads grow grey, and
we die, and never reck of the heiress. Sir
Chylo Tun'cner may, at this moment, be
grooning in exasperation ntan unskilful cook,
who puts too much pepper in liis soup ond
boils his fish to flakes; and Mrs. Lambs-
wool's next place may be with a north
country Squire with no more palate tl
a boa-constrictor, who delights in noth
half so much as a half raw bcefxteak,
a pic with a crust as thick as the walls
the model prison, and calls made dial
" kickshaws.
" As Good Cook in a private fanu"!y,"
4c., Ac, — the usual formula, with a hint as
irreproachable choiacter, and a published want
of objection to the country. The QixkI C«
does not pretend to the higher mysteries
the 'professed.' I doubt if she knows wb
bain-mani pan is, or what Mdi/dunaiaei,
niit, S'tvU't, Fricandiaux, (ira(in*or Sv _
are. Her French is not even of the school
' Stratford-atte-Bow,' and she does not ua
stand what a met is. Her stock made di
are veal cutlets, harico mutton, stewed _^
and Irish stew. She makes all these well;
and very good things they are in their way.
She is capital at a hand of pork and
soup ; at pigeon pics ; at roasting, boiling,
inp, stewing, and baking. She is , '
pie.« and puddings, and has a non-trai
recei[>t for plum pudding, which she
not part with for a year's w;i;jtK She
cook as succulent, wholesi)m<\ 1 Ii .'uitv
Bs any Christian man need i t
to ; but i^he is not an artist
not in the " first style." Shu may
Uloom."jbury, but not for Belgravia.
HOVSEMATD (wher* a rootmnn fi krpa,
rrtpMlablD jroon* worniin, Willi Ihn-r yrarV gat
cbancivr. Adklrc«sL.U.,Uamini Otiurl, LjuiiO* Cub4i
aireel.
Letitia Brownjohn, who wishes to Tie K
housemaid, who has three years' go<^d cha*
racter (bj- her pronounced' "kniktcr")
two-and-lwenty years of age. Her father is
smith, or a pianoforte moker, or a Uath«
dresser, stifling with a lorge family
Gamms Court. Her mother has been 1 .,
at service in her lime, and Letitia is in tb«
transition state now — in the chrysalis fonaa-
tion of domestic drudgery ; which she ho
to exchange some day' for the fulUblc
butterflyhood of a home, a husband,
family, and domestic drudgery of her 01
All, Letitin, for all that you are worret
now by captious mistresses, the time mar
come wl^n, in some stifling Gamms Court
of your own, sweltering over a wa«htu
with a (Ininkcn husband nnd a brood
ragged children, you may sigh for your t
kitclitn, the cat, the ticking clock, the
box in the nrea window, and your cou
the Guftrd.^) softly whispering and wi
outside the area railings.
Letitia Itrownjohn, like most other
ladies of the housemaid calling, has had
university education. Not, I need f<c»rci.
tell, at theological Oxford or logarithmic
Cani'iridgc; nor at the Silent Sisters, wl(
woiiM not suit Letitia by any meons ; nor
Durham, famous for its mustard and i
mines ; nor at any one of those nanght
MORE PLAOBS WANTED.
Colleges in Ireland which the Pope is so
angry with ; nor even at any one of the col-
leges nwvnlly inslitut«sd in this country " for
Indies only," as the railwny carriagc-s have
it — yt't in an university. Lctitift, aa most of
the university-tducaled do, went in the first
instance to a public school ; that founded by
Lady Honoria VVoggs (wife of King William
Ihe Tliird's Archbahop Woggs), where intel-
lectual training was an object of less solici-
tude by the couimittee of management than
the attainment of a strong nasal stylo of
vocal elocution, as applied to the sacred
lyrics of Messrs. Stemhold and Hopkins, and
the wearing a peculiarly hidcou.s costume,
accurately copied and followed from the
painted wooden statuette of one of Lady
Woggs's girls, in Lady Woggs's own time,
placed in a niche over Iho porch of the dinpv
brick building containing Ijidy Woggas
school, and flanked in another niche by
another statuette of a young gentleman in a
muffin cap and leathers, representing one of
Lady Woggs's Iwys.
From this establishment our Letitia passed,
bcinj some nine or ten years of age, to the
univLTirfty, and there she matriculated, and
there she graduated. Do you know that
university to which three-fourths — nay,
Dinctoen-twentieths — of our London-bred
children " go up ?" Its halls and colleges aro
the pavement and the gutter ; it.'* Lccture-
Ihcnlrc the doorstep and the poi^t at the
comer; its f^chools of philosophy arc the
chandler's shop, the cobbler's stall, and the
public-house; of which the landlord is the
chancellor; its proctor and bull-dogs .ire the
, police-sergeant and his men ; its public ora-
tors, the ballad-singers and last dying- speech
cryers; its lecturers arc scolding women. The
weekly wages of its occupants form its univer-
sity che.st Commemoration takes place every
Saturday night, with grand musical perform-
ances frotn the harp, guit.nr, and violin,
Opposite the Admiral Keppoll. The graduates
Are mechanics and small tradesmen and their
■wives. The undergraduates are Letitias and
Tommies, The university is the sti'ect.
Right in its centre stands the Tree of
Knowledge of good and evil. And all day
long children come and pluck the fruit and
«.-at it ; and some choose ripe and whcile-
some fruit, the pleasant savour of which shall
not depart out of their mouths readily;
l>ut nomo choose bad and rotten apples, which
they fall upon and devour gluttonou.sly, so
that the fruit disagrees with them vcrj- much
indeed, anil causes them to break all out in
Ruch L-riiption.'i of vicious humourt, a« their
Very chridren's children's blood shall be ein-
poisotied with years hence. And some, being
young and foolish and ignorant, take and eat
Iindiitriminatcly of the good and of the bad
fruit, and are sick and sorry or healthful ami
j^lad alternately ; but might (are badly and be
lost in the long run did not AVisdoni and
Lovr (come from making of rainbows anJ
quelling of stormff, perhaps a million miles
away, to consider til •- and take slock
of the flics in the ' university) ap-
pear betimes among iih-:l' joung undergra-
duates gathered round the tree, and teach
their hearts how to direct their hands to
pluck good su.'stcnance from that tree. I never
go down a back street and look on the multi-
tude of children (I don't mean ragged, Bedouin
children, but decently attired young people, of
poor but honest parcnt.s, living hard by, who
have no better playing-ground for them), and
hear them singing their street songs, and see
them playing street games, and making street
friendships, and caballing on doorsti^ps or con-
spiring by posts, or newsmongering on kerb
stones, or trotting along with jugs and half-
pence for the beer, or listening open-mouthed
to the street orators and musicians, or watch-
ing Punch and the acrobats, or forming a ring
at a street fight, or gathered round a drunken
iii.in, or running to a fire, or running from a
bull, or pressing round about an accident, bon-
netlc8.< and capless, but evidently native to
this place — without these thoughts of the
university and the tree coming into my head.
You who may have been expensively edu-
cated and cared for, and have had a gymna-
sium for exercise, covered playing courts,
class-room.s, cricket-tleld.s, ushers to attend
you in the hours of recreation; who have gone
from school and college into the world, well re-
commended and with a golden piu-wport, should
think more, and considerately too, of what a
hazardous, critical, dangerous nature this
street culture is. AVitli what stnall book-
loaming these poor young undorgraduatea
get, or that their parent'? can atTord to pro-
vide them with, is mixed simultaneously the
strangest course of tuition in the ethics of
the pawnbroker's sliop^ the philosophy of
the pubtic-hoaso, the rhetoric of drunken
men and shrewi.sh women, the logic of bad
associations, nnd bad examples, and bad
language.
Our Letitia graduated in duo course of
girlhood, becoming a mistress of such house-
hold arts as a London -bred girl can hope to
acquire at the age of fourteen or fiflocn.
\Vell, you know what sort of a creature the
lodging-hou.<H5 maid of all work is, and what
sort of a life she leadi You have soon her;
her pattens and disheveled cap, her black
stockings and battered tin candlestick. Wo
have all known Letitia Brownjohns — oft-tiraea
comely, neat-handetl Philliscs enough — oft-
times desp<>ratcly slatternly and untidy
— in nlmo.st every case wofuUy over-worked
nnJ a.? wretchedly underpaid. She must be
up early and late. AVith the exception of
the short intermission of sleep doled forth
to her, her work is ceaseless. She ascends
and descends every step of every flight
of stairs in the house hundreds of times in
tlic course of the day ; .she is the slave of tho
rineing both of the door bell and the lodgers'
tititinnabulo. She must be little more Ih&n a.'o
161 ■
nilcs ^
I
\
163
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
IPHiMW« tt
L..
animated appendage to the knocker — a jack
in the box, to be produced bya double rap. She
is cook, housemaid, lady's-maid, scullery maid,
housekeeper, all in one ; and for what ? For
some hundred and fifly shillings every year,
and some — few and far between — coppers and
sixpences, doled out to her in gratuities by
(he lodgers in consideration of her Briarean
handiwork. Her holidaj's arc very, very few.
Almo.vt her only intercourse with the outer
world takes place when she runs to the public-
housi.- at the comer for the dinner or supper
beer, or to a neighbouring fishmonger for
oviitcrs. A rigid supervision is kept over her
conduct. She is expected to have neither
friend.^, acquaintances, rclationji, nor sweet-
hearts. " No followers," is the Median and
Persian law continually paraded before her ;
a law unchangeable, and broken only under
the most hideous penalties. AVhcn you and I
grumble at our lot, repine at some petty re-
verse, fret and fiune over the curtailment
of some indulgence, the deprivation of some
luxury, we Uttle know what infinite gra-
dations of privation and suffering exist ; and
what admirable and exemplary contentment
and cheerfulness are often to be found among
those whose standing is on the lowest rounds
of the ladder.
But Letitia is emancipated from the maid-
of-all-work thraldom now, and aspires to be
a "Housemaid where a footman is kept,"
y't not without considerable difficulty, and
nlUT years of arduous apprenticeship and
si-rvitude. "With the maid-of-all-work, as she
b'.'fiins, so 'tis ten to one that as such she
ends. I have known grey-headed maidi)-of-all-
work ; and of such — ^with a sprinkling of
insolvent laundresses and widows who have
had their mangles seized for rent — i.^ re-
cruited, and indeed, organised, the numerous
and influential class of "charwomen" who
work household work for eighteen pence a
day and a glass of spirits.
But Letitia Brownjohn has been more for-
tunate. Some lady lodger, perchance in some
house in which she has been a servitor, has
taken a fancy to her; and such lodger,
taking in due course of human eventuality a
house for herself^ has taken Letitia to be hei
own private housemaid. And she has lived
with City families, and tradesmen's families,
and in boarding-schools, and she has grown
frum the untidy " gal" in the black stock-
inpi and the mob cap to be a natty
youiit; ]ierson in a smart cap and ribbons,
:is)iiring to a situation where a footman
is kept. That she may speedily obtain such
an ap|iointmemt; that the footman maybe
worthy of his companion in service ; that |
they may please each other (in due course of i
lime), even to the extent of the asking of ]
banns and the solemnisation of a certain
service, I very cheerfully and sinccrclv wish. \
I
For the present, my catalogue of " Want '
nacea" is at an end. By and by, possibly I |
may tell you jocund tales of stalwart foot-
men, and portly butlers, and valets-de-cham-
bre, to whom their masters were no herocfl.
A BRAZmLVN IN BLOOMSBURY.
WHttE we write — it may not be so when
this is read — many of the naturalistsof London
are getting up and going to bed, talking by
day, for want of better matter, of the weather
and the Turkish " diflScuIty," and sleeping of
nights, perfectly unconscioui; of a mine of ex-
citement that may at any hour be sprung in
the midst of them — of the fact, in short,
that there is an Ant-bear in the town.
Should it live and get its rights ^e shall
have Ant-bear Quadrilles, Ant-bear Butter-
dishes, Ant-bear Paper-weights, Ant-bear pic-
tures of all sorts, and perhaps a dash of Ant-
bear in the Christmas Pantomimes. For the
Ant-bear, or Great Anteater, is a zoological
wonder ; a thing never before seen in Europe ;
an animal more eccentric and surprising
than the Hippopotamus, and for whose ap-
pearance among us we are less prepuvd by
any widely sprnd acquaintance of a general
kind with its form and halnts. Should
the Ant-bear lodging now in a poor home
at number seventeen. Broad Street, Blooms-
bury, find its way, as wo believe it will,
to the more fashionable precincts of Regent's
Park, and should it live through the next
London sea.son, no war of Turk or Rusran
—should there then be any — will stud
against it
We may state generally that the Grest
Anteater is at home in certain parts of Sootli
.\merica ; that it is found there only, and thit
it lives on insects — chiefly on ants; that itii
(though very different in form) as lai^ u ■
small bear ; that it has a copious coat of coane
hair, a pair of immensely powerful forelep
with which to tear open the hard nests of t£i
white ant, a nosa half as long as its body,
with a small mouth at the end to be thratt
into the nest, and a long tongue like tbe
tongue of a serpent that can be darted oat
surprisingly more than a hundred times in i
minute. The long nose in front of the AD^
bear is more than balanced by the huge td
behind — a very complete brush and a rej
complete hair-roofing when its owner thinb
proper to be snug. In lying down he tuds
the long nose under one arm, like an umlvelK j|
and then turns the tail over his l>odr, eroj 'j
part of which it covers so completely, tW
the animal a.'^leep looks like a grey mat, or *
heap of hair ; and not in the leakt like tit
living thing. All the ants in the wodil
might >vage a useless war against thdr
enemy, oniv coiled under the shelter of tW
tail. It is to the Ant-bear as his vine u'
fig-tree under which he is accustomed t*
repose.
The name ".\nteatcr" suggests a jjorf
many vague notions. When we first bevi
of the Anteater, there were recalled (>
CtMtoDh*m.1
A BRAZILIAN IN BLOOMSBURY.
oor mincU sercrnl varieties of the animal :—
the African Antcatcr, the Aanivark, found
round about the Cape colony; the scaly -Ant-
catt-TS or Pangijlins, of which there is one
species found in Senegal and Guinea, and
two other? in the Dcccan, Bcn<^l, Nepaul,
Southern China, and Formosa. Furthermore,
wc wero reminded of the Australian or
Porcupine Anteater, called a Hedgehog by
the colonistn of Sydney. In Araeric* two
kinds of Anteater exist, the Great and the
Little, differing not only in sir.c but also in
form ar\d structure. These two kinds of Ant-
eater belong exclusively to Central and SouUi
America. The animal wc found in Eilooms-
l)ury wfljfi the Orenl Anteater from Brar.il;
or, to give him his full Bcientitic honours, the
Myniiecnphaga jubata. Many attempts have
lieen made to bring a specimen alive to Europe,
hut it has never yet been able to survive the
sea passage. The Ant-bear now in Broad
Street, Bloomsbury, ia therefore tlic first that
has been seen alive in Europe, It has been
brou!»ht over by somo poor Germans, who
had found their way bo for from Vaterland
as the interior of Braril, four hundred miles
from Rio Janeiro. In Bnizil the Ant-bear
is at homo, and is occasionally reare<l in
houses :\s a domestic pet The idea of carrying
lionic with them some specimens to Europe
as a .^speculation having been broached among
tHese (Jermans, one party determined upon
carrying if possible two young .■\nt-boars to
Paris, and anotlier party undertook to convey
two In Ijondon. Thoy were brought away
from home in the first month of infancy. The
two destined for Paris both died on the way.
Of the two destined for London, one died on
the w;iy to Rio Janeiro, and was tiierc slufTed
■vvry badly. The other ha.s survived the long
sca-pns*igc, though he ha* grown very lean
over it, and has while we now write been
a week in London.
The poor proprietors appear to have
fcrrived in town with no higher ambition
't.han the establishment of nn obscure show.
"VS'ith little cash and le.s.s F.iiglish they
«;ng«^ed a lodging for themselves and their
infnnt, then five months old, at a hou-^e In
It hat perverted and degenerate thoroughfare,
"^riKul Street, Bloom.sbury. There they put
. bill into the window of a small shop — their
liow-room — inviting the public to come in
n<l «ee that very wonderful animal, never
iLitfore brouglit ti) Europe, the Antita (so
■!t Anteater in their largest letters)
i/.il. The charge for admi8.sion was
lied at sLxpence, with the usual ten-
e>^ in the allowance of half-price lo
n. At this hour, it is only here and
% Btray member of tlie London public
has heard of the existence of tliis animal
Ong 08. It was by one of those few early
•scnvurie* that we were ourselves directed
it,s ilwelling-placc.
On opening the shop door we found our*
ytn, in proper showman fashion, shut from
a sight of the inner mystery by a check cur
lain. Passing that wc came into the shop,
which was divided by a little wooden barrier
into a small space for spectators, and a
small space for the proprietors of the
animal and for the animal himself, whose
den w.*s a deal box standing on its side,
with a smalt lair of straw inside, and the
stuffed Anteater on the top of it. On the
straw was a rough grey hair mat, of a cir-
cular fortn, or a heap of hair, which pre-
sently unrolled itself into the form of a mag-
nificent tail, from under which the long noso
of the living Ant-bear was aimed at us like a
musket. Then the whole curiosity came out
to cat an egg, which it heard cracked against
the wall. In accordance with the fate com-
mon to exiles, this Ant-bear is very thin.
Being now five months old, he stands about
as high as a Newfoundland dog. As there
were no other visitors present wc had an
opportunity of becoming pretty aociiible with
him and with his owners, and could feel his
long nose and his shaggy coat with the same
hand that had been c;dled upon to feel the
small hcjids of the Aztecs. Ilere, however,
was a tit object upon which to .spend our
wonder — not a deformed fellow-being, but a
work of creation hitherto nnsoeiv among us,
an example not of defect, but of perfection in
the ailaptation of me.an.s (o an end — from
mouth to tail an .Anteater.
We have already, in some pages of this
journal, had occasion to remark, th.nt the
feeding of one animal upon another is not in
principle a savage or a cruel thing, but the
direct rcver.se. E.iccefit where man has inter-
fered to make the life nf any creature pain-
ful, there can be no doubt that every brute
existence ends with a large balance on the
side of happiness enjoyed. All healthy animal
life — except perhaps in the least organised
animals that scarcely po-tsess any conscious-
ness — is pleasure, and lo multiply creatures
is to multijily the sum af bap[>incss enjoyed
upon this globe of ours ; therefore the earth
is full of animated heiiigs. The vegetable
world fi-cds myriiuls of individuals, and there
is scnrceSy an hiTb that does not feed at
least one cln,ss of animal,-;; a race exprently
created to eiijuy it; bom to cat nothing else.
But if all aninKds iite fruits there would be a
limit set to the multiplication of kinds, and
to the aggregate incre.ise of numbers thiil is
now far ovcrpiwsed. Ufton one animal another
lives, nnnthcr ujion that; so there ia nowni;te
in the great system of creation, and ten
liappy beings live in vigour where, had all
animals been vegetable feeders, there would
have been but five, and at loa-st two of tlinsu
endurinp the (listrt.s.se« of a slow decay. Man
is subject to diseases that arise almost cn-
tirelj' from his social errors, yet they tend
to develop all his higher faculties — they give
play to his Kyrai>atlues and atfcction.s, elevate
liira as a moral being; at the same timo
they serve as admonitions to b\& \v\\.Oi\tc\.,
1
lU
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
which is by them led to trace bad effects
to their cause in conditions of existence
that require amendment ; as for example we
are taught bj cholera that we must not so
misuse our power of free action as to pen one
another up in filthy heaps, neglccUng to use
the fresh air, the pure light and the clear
water that lie ready to our mouth and eyes
and hands. Brutes, however, are created not
for progressive development, but for the
simple enjoyment of the life and power that
they haT& Sickness has not for them its
uses, instinct commonly teaches them to
avoid causes of disease, and those which
become a prey to animals that feed upon
them die suddenly a quick and easy death,
after a life that has been wholly free from
aches and pains, and all the toils that old age
and debility bring with them. Tliey go to
make fresh life and vigour, and there is in
this way a great wealth of strong and happy
life established in the worid, and a great deal
of fatigue and suffering kept out of it A
further use of this method of maintaining
one set of uiimals on the waste of another, is
to increase very much the variety of form
and structure which give to our universe so
much beauty and interest, and to the thinking
man so many clues by which he may lead his
thoughts upward and increase his own small
stock of wisdom by the study of a wisdom that
is infinite and perfect While the varieties
of furm arc increased there is a due check put
on the undue reproduction of any single
species. — We might follow these reflections
out a great deal &rthcr, but we have said
enough for our purpose, which was to suggest
the reflection that a largo animal created
with direct and obvious reference to his
assigned business of destroying ant's nests
and subsisting upon their inhabitants, illus-
trates a great principle in the government of
tlio world that springs wholly from benefi-
cence, and can be thought strange only be-
cause it is unfamiliar and striking. Equally
or even more surprising would be the net
spread by the spider, if one, with the animal
at work upon it, could be exhibited to a
people among whom spiders never hare been
scon. Yet we sweep such things down from
the comer of our houses and regard them
but as common dust
There is some reason to doubt whether the
Ant-bear in Bloomsbury will live through an
English winter. It is now healthy, but thin
and languid, as most exotic animals become
when they are brought among us. Mrs.
Meredith, in her account of her Home in
Tasmania, gave ui the other day quite start-
ling accounts of the briskness of a tame opos-
nim under its own skies, in opposition to the
common itatument made here, even br some
Mtundista, that they are sluggish aiiimaK i
Th* Ao^bear that crawled lazily out of its
box under the shadow of St Giles's steeple,
vrould at this time have been fishing and
laipiiig with flcroo vigour if left to the belter
of the forests of Brazil. At home, .when
rendered fierce by hunger, it will make a
bound of ten feet to spring on the back of
a horse, tear open the horse's shoulder with
its huge daws, and then suck the blood out
of the wound. Here it comes, lean as it i^
very laxily out of its box at the crackling of
an eggshdl to follow its master about, licking
the yolk out of an egg with its long tongue.
It does that very cleverly. Like most of
the tame Ant-bears in Brazil, this one in
Bloomsbury, though but an infant, cAts B&f
in a day, with a little milk, and meat chopped
finely or in soup.
It needs not only food but air. It would
do best, said the German, if it had soma
green to run upon. The air of a small room
in Holborn or in Oxford Street, to which last
thoroughfare the show entertained a notion
of removing, adds one more peril to the
chance of maintaining alive this little
stranger. The peril, however, is not very
likely to be of long duration. Such a priie
as UI Antrbear could not hide itself a day in
London from the eye of the ever active sec-
retary of the gardens in Regent's Pkrk. He
was already in treaty with the Germaiu, and
had ofl*ered them, if they wenttwith their
animal to the Zoological Garden, the weeklj
payment of quite a royal pension during its
life. They were to have every week certainly
as much as they could make of profit out or
their show during six months in Bnod
Street They had refused that offer, ud
desired to sell their treasure outright at s
price that was but ten weeks' purchase of
the pension offered, with a condition thit
they would return one-third of the monay if
the Ant-bear died within ten weeks. TUi
suggestion proves that the owners themadM
consider the Ant-bear's life a very bftd one ti
ensure themselves a salary upon. So lb
ncgociation stands at present, that is to ^J
while we write. When this is read, the oMt'
ter will be settled. The strange animal Mlf
have become famous among us, and i
in a fair way to get through the wiokr
under able watching and with the belt
artificial aid, or it may be still pinin>>
an obscure show-room, or it may be ow
and stuffed and filmed and ^azed, or dad
and dissected.
If dead and stuffed, let no man put ftittk
its appearance. We have seen no En|^
picture of the Ant-bear at all equal to Ai
truth, and if we may take as a saaple fk
stuffed specimen brought from Rio Jsmi*
with this living animal, the stuflfer 1^ ]^
more completely than the painter. The hit
smooth, hard nose, like a stiiT, straight, k^T
proboscis, only by no means a proboeoi. i
it has no mouth under it but carries a ttA*
toothless mouth at the end of itself^ ai *
pair of small, keen eyes at its root; Arf
wonderful long bend which we call ntK
which is made to dive into the innenMl'
recesses of the ant's nes^ and whkk ■■
^^
ClMflH Ukkaaio]
CHILD'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
165
u Btrikin;; a characteristic of the boast as
the Rtork's bill is of the bird, that essential
feature shrivels and wrinklca and grows
limp under the stufR'r's hand, and conveys no
notion of the original clear and even elegant
outline of the Ant-bear's head, and of the firm-
ness of its bone and bristle. Then the fore-
legs and the tremendous daws are marred
inevitably. The forclcn:s even in the young
living specimen of which wc speak arc
models of animal strenjrth that would dcliii;ht
the eye of any artist There is a size of bono,
a manifest firmness and tension of muscle in
thciit, that recal to the mind many an old ideal
sculpture. They end in huge claws retracted in-
wards, a.s wc should .oay of fingers bent towards
the palm, and the animal, walking in a strange
way, treailsupon them so; he docs not spread
the foreclaws out, but walks, as it were, upon
bis knuckles. In the stuffed specimen the
claws are spread out carefully as they ar*
never to be seen in nature. The outer crust
of the ant-hills bcrfinn'; .irtm hnnl .is .<lfirii>,
and the use of thi '
huge power in til n
Ant-bear to rend tlieoi asunder, as the u:tk
was rent by Milo. The hind legs of the
Ant-bear although strong are altogether
weaker, and they end in feet like human
feet, which arc of great use in supporting
him while he is at work with his fore-
daws. In the stuffed specimen again the
marvellous tail is turned in the wrong direc-
tion. In the living creature it resembles
nothing BO much in form as a peacock's
tail, with the sweep reversed A peacock's
tail without the gaiety, made of grey hwrs
instisad of gaudy feathers.
We remained for some time wnth the young
Brazilian, during which there arriveii only one
visitor, a gentleman to whose ears the report
of it had corac. lie saw the Ant-bear eat an
egg and scratch itself, then went awny. It
scratchesand pulls its bair about with \is hard
forc-ch»ws prcdsely as it would if they were
homy fingers, and turning its head round
always when it does so to bring one bright
eye to bear upon its work, its mouth is
brought at the same time into the neighbour-
hood of its bind feet or of its tail. We heard
two little sons of St Giles, asking outside
whether that was where the show was and
what was the charge for seeing it but they de-
murred at threepence and retired. .\n object
of attraction that in proper hands would draw
half London was of no account in Bloomsbury.
Few seemed to care for " the Antita." When
that young Brazilian had in a leisurely way
refreshed himself with eggs and milk, pro-
perly scratched himself with each of his four
legs, and mi.de inspection of our trousers, he
determined to lie down. Not however, itntil
he hail mado his bed. When he had arranged
the straw to his satisfaction, ho lay down on
one side, and holding out an arm for his long
bead, took it to his brea.st and cuddled it as
though it were a baby that he had to hod
with him. Then he drew over all bis long
tail in the fashion of a counterpane, and re-
mained thereunder as quiet as death.
A CHILD'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
CHaPTXB XL.
Bbfokb sunset on the memorable day on
which King Charles the First was executed,
the House of Commons passed an act de-
claring it treason in any one to prodaim the
Prince of Wales— or anybody else — King of
England. Soon afterwards, it declared that
the House of Lords was useless and dangerous,
and ought to be abolished, and directed that
the late King's statue should bo taken down
from the Royal P'xchange in the city and
other public places. Having laid hold of
some famous Royalists who had escaped
from prison, and having beheaded the Ddkb
OP Hamilton, Loan Uollaxd, and Lord
Capel, in Pala^ Yard (all of whom died
very courageouiiy), they then appointed a
Council of State to govern the country. It
consisted of forty-one members, of whom five
wore peers. Brodshaw was made president
The IIouso of Coratnons also re-adinitted
members who had opposed the King's death,
and made up its numbers to about a hundred
and fitly.
But, it still had an army of more than forty
thousand men to deal with, and a very hard
task it was to manage them. Befbro the
King's execution, the army had appointed
soma of its officers to remonstrate between
them and the Parliament ; and now the
common soldiers began to take that office
upon themselves. Tho regiments un<lcr
orders for Ireland mutinied: one troop of
horse in the city of London seized their
o»vn flag, and rcfiised to obey orders. For
this, tho ringleader was shot : which did not
mend the ranttur, for, both his comrades and
tho people made a public funeral for hira, and
accompanied the body to tho grave with
sound of trumpets and with a gloomy pro-
ce8,sion of persons carrying bundles of rose-
mary steeped in bloocl. Oliver was the only
man to deal with such difficulties as these,
and hij soon cut them short by bursting
nt midnight into the town of Burford, near
Salisbury,whcrc the mutineers wcru sheltered,
taking four hmidred of them prisoners,
and shooting a number of them by sentence
of court-marfial. The soldiers soon found, as
all men did, that Oliver was not a man to be
trilled with. And there was an end of the
mutiny.
The Scottish Parliament did not know
Oliver yet; so, nn hearing of tho King's
execution, it proclaimed the Pnnce of Wales
King Charles the Second, on condition of his
re-specting the Solemn I/cngin.* and Covenant
Charles was abroiul at that time, and so was
Montrose, from whose help he had hopes
cn'->iitli to keep him holding on and oGTwith
1S6
HOUSEHOLD "WORDS.
commissioners from Scotland, just as his
father might hare done. ThcRo hopes, how-
ever, were soon at an end, for Montrose,
having raised .a few hundred exiles in
Gormany, and landed with them in Scotland,
found that the people there, instead of joining
him, deserted the country at his approach. lie
W.1S soon taken prisoner and carried to Edin-
burgh. There he was received with erery
possible insult, and carried to prison in a cart,
his officers going two and two before him.
Ho was sentenced by the Parliament to be
hanged on a gallows thirty feet high, to have
his head set on a spike in Edinburgh, and his
limbs distributed in other places, according
to the old barbarous manner. He said he
had always actctl under the Royal orders,
and only wished he ha*l limbs enough to be
distributed through Christendom, that it
might bo the more widely known how loyal
he had boen, Hu went to the scalTold in a
bright and brilliant dress, and made a bold
end at thirty-eight years of age. Tho breath
was scarcely out of his body when Charles
abandoned his memory, and denied that he
had ever given him orders to rise in his be-
halt Oh, the family failing was strong in
that Charles then !
Oliver had been appointed by the Parlia-
ment to command the army in Ireland, where
hu took a terrible vengeance fur the san-
guinary rebellion, and made tremendous
havoc, particularly in the siege of Drogheda,
where no quarter wa-i? given, and where he
found at least a thousand of the inhabitants
shut up together in the great church : every
one of whom was killed by his soldiers,
usually known as Oliver's Iko.ssiubs. There
were numbers of friars and priests among
t'lcm, and Oliver grultty wrote home in his
despatch that tliese were " knocked on the
head" like the rust
Hut, Charles having got over to Scotland
where the men of the Solemn League and
Covenant led him a prodigiously dull life,
and made him very weary with long sennons
and grim Sundays, the Parliament called
the redoubtable Oliver home to knock the
Scottish men on the head for setting up
that Prince. Oliver left his son-in-law,
Ireton, as general in Ireland in his stead (he
died there aftenvards), and he imitated the
e.\!»mi)le of his father-in-law with such good-
will tiiat he brought tho country to subjec-
tion, and laid it at the feet of the Parliament.
In the end, they pa.sscd an act for the settle-
ment of Ireland, generally pardoning all the
common people, but exempting from this
gneo auch of the wealthier sorts as had been
eonoennd in the rebellion, or in any killing of
tntuits, or who refused to lay "down their
a. Great numbers of Irish were got out
Ihe country to serve under Catholic
•ni abroad, and a qu.antity of land was
a«ed to have been forfeited by past
riiieoa, and was given to people who had
A money to Uie Parliament early in tho
war. These were sweeping measures ; but, if
Oliver Cromwell had had his own way fully,
and had stayed in Ireland, he would have
done more yet
However, as I have said, the Parliament
wanted Oliver for Scotland ; so, home Oliver
came, and was made Commander of all the
Forces of the Commonwealth of England, and
ill three days away he went with sixteen
thousand soldiers to fight the Scottish men.
Now, the Scottish men, being then — as yon
will generally find them now — ^mighty
cautious, reflected that the troops they bid
were not used to war like the Ironsides, and
would be beaten in an open fighc Therefore
they said, " If we lie quiet in our trenches in
Edinburgh here, and if all the farmers come
into the town and desert the country, the
Ironsides will be driven out by iron hunger
and be forced to g^> away." This was, no
doubt, the wisest plan ; but as the Scottish
clergy would interfere with what they knew
nettling about, and would perpetually preach
long sermons, exhorting the soldiers to come
out and fight, tha soldiers got it in their
heads that they absolutely must come ont
and fight Accordingly, in an evil hour ftr
themselves, they came out of their aife po-
sition. Oliver fell upon them instantly, and
killed three thousand, and took ten thoustod
prisoners.
To gratify the Scottish Parliament, and
preserve their favour, Charles had signed
a declaration they laid before him, re-
proaching the memory of his father aad
mother, and representing himself as a moit
religious Prince, to whom the Solemn League
and Covenant was as dear as life. He meant
no sort of truth in this, and soon aftcnnnb
galloped away on horseback to join som
tiresome Highland friends, who were aliraTi
flourishing dirks and broadswords. He wM
overtaken and induced to return ; but tbit {
attempt, which was called " The start," did i
him just so much service that they did not [
preach quite such long sermons at him aii(^ '
wards as they had dene before.
On the first of January, one thousand lix
hundred and fifty- one, the Scottish pcofib
crowned him at Scone. He immediately tm
the chief command of an army of tveotf
thousand men, and marched to Stirling: ffi>
hopes were heightened, I daresay, by the R-
doubtable Oliver being ill of an agne; bet
Oliver scrambled out of bed in no time^ ui
went to work with such energy that be pt
behind the Royalist army and cat it off f^
all communication with Scotland. There n>
nothing for it then, but to go on to England;
so it went on as far as Worcester, where tbe
mayor and some of the gentry proclained
Ring Charles the Second otnightvay. S>
proclamation, however, was of little use t»
him, for very few Royalists appeared, and M
the very same day two people were public^
beheaded on Tower Hill for e?poiiung !■■■
cause. Up came Oliver to Wcnxxstsr tiA
CHILD'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
16T
at (loublo quick Kpocci, And he ha4 hiH Iron-
sides so laid iibout Ihem in the great battle
wbicli wae fought there, that they COlu-
pletfly bvat the Scottish men, and di-stroyed
the Royalist army, though the Scottish men
fought so gallarktly that it took five hours
to do.
The L-»^!«|ie of Charles after this battle of
Worcoster did him g-oo<l service long after-
words for it induced many of the generous
English |>eople to take a, romantic interest in
him, and think much better of him than
he ever deserved. He fled in the night with
noU more than sixty followers to the house of
& Csttiolic lady in St&tfordshire, There, for
his grtater safety, the whole sixty lift him.
He cropped his hair, stained his face and
hands brown as if they were .sunburnt, put
on the clothes of a labouring countryman,
and Went out in the morning with his axe in
his hand, accompanied by four wood-cuttera
who were brothers, and another man who
was their brother-in-law. Tiiese good fellovvs
made a bed for him under a tree, as the
weather was very had ; and the wife of one
of th'MD brought him food to eal ; and the old
mother of the four brothers came and fell
down on her knees before him in i:ho wood,
and thanked God that her sons were en-
gaged in saving W\s life. At night, he came
out of the forest and went on lo atiother
hoane which w.i,s near the river Severn, with
the intention of passing into Wales; but the
phkce Bwanncd with soliliers, and the bridges
were guarded, and all the boats were made
fiiBt. So, afier lying in a hayloft covered
over with hay, for some time, he came out
of thi* place, attended by Coloxel Careless,
a Catholic gentleman who h.nd mei him
there, and nHth whom he lay hid all next
day, up in the shady branches of a fine old
oak. It WAS lucky for the King that it was
September-time, and that the leaves had not
begun tn fall, as he and the Colonel, perched
up in this tree, could catch glimpses of
the soldiers riding about below, and could
hear the crasli in the wood as they went about
beating the lioughii.
After thiH, he walked and walked until his
fcet were all bli.slered, and, having been
eonuealvd all one day in a house which wa.s
searched by the troopers while he was there,
went with Lord Wilmot, another of his good
friends, to a place called Beutly, where one
Mis« L.tHE, a Protestant lady, bad obtained
a pms to be allowed to ride through the
guards to see a relation of hers near lirisLol.
DisguJseil as a servant, he nxle on the saddle
before this young lady to the house of Sib
JdH5 W'intek, while LonI Wilmot rode
there boldly, like a plain country gentleman,
with dog« at hi* heels. It happened thnt
Sir John Winter's butler had been a servant
in lUehmond Palace, and knew Charles
the moment ho set eyes upon him • but,
the butler was faithful, and kept the secret.
As no ship could be found there to cany
him abroad, it was planned that he should
go — still travelling with Mi.ss I«ane as her
servant — to another house, at Trent, near
Sherborne in Dorsetshire ; and then Miss
Lane and her cousin, Mr. Lascellks, who
had gone on horseback beiiide her all the
way, went home. I hope Mi.ss Lane was
going to marrj' that cousin, for I am siure «he
mu8t have been a brave, kind girl. If F bad
been that cou.sin, I should certainly have
loved her.
When Charles, lonely for tho loss of Miss
Lane, was safe at Trent, a ship wa.s hired
at Lyme, the master of which engaged to
take two gentlemen to France. in the
evening of tho same day, the King — now
riding ns servant before another young Indy
— set off for a public-hou.'^e at a place called
Charraouth, where the captain of tho vessel
was to t4ikc him on board. But the captain's
wife, being afraid of her husband's getting"
into trouble, locked liim up, and would not
let him sail. Then they went away to Brid-
port, and coming to the inn there, found tho
slable-yani full of soldiers who were on the
look-out for Charles, and who talked about
him while they drank. Ho liad such presence
of mini], however, that he led the horses of
his [larty through the yard as any other ser-
vant might have done, and said, " Come out
of the waj-, you soldiers; let us have room
to pa.s.s here !" As he went along, ho met a
halftip.sy ostler, who rubbed his eyes and
said to him, " Why, I w.is furmerly nervant
to Mr. Potter at Esetur, and surely I have
sometime.s seen you there, j-oung man ?" Ho
certainly had, for Charles had lodged there.
His rea<ly answer was, " Ah, I did live with
him once ; but I have no time to talk now.
We'll have a pot of beer together when 1
come back."
From this dangerous place he returned to
Trent, and lay there concealed several daj'a
Then, he escaped to Heale, near Salisbury,
where, in the house of a widow lady, he
was hidden tivo days, until the lii.i.stcr of
a collier lying off .Shoreham in Sussex, un-
dertook to convey "a gcntleuiau" to France.
On tho night of the fifteenth of C)ctober,
accompanied by two colcnels and a mer-
chant, the King rode to Brighton, then a
little fishing village, to give tho captain
of tlic ship a supper before going on board;
but, so many jieopic knew him, that this
captain knew him too, and not only he, but
the landlord and landlady also. Before he
went away, the landlord cnme behind his
chair, kinsed his hand, and said ho hoped to
live to be a lord and to see 1\\a wife .a My;
at which Charles laughed. They had hail a
good supper by this time, and plenty of smok-
ing and drinking, at which the King was a
ftrat-rate hand; so, the captain assured him
that he would stand by him, and he did. It
was agreed that the cnfitain .«)iould pretend
to sail to Deal, and that Charles tihould
address the sailors und nay he was a gen-
I
L
!0S
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
'\'iii.in in debt, who was running away from
liiri creditors, and that he hoped they would
join him in persuading the captain to put
Itini ashore in France. Aa the King acted
his part Tery well indeed, and gave the
sailors twenty shillings to drink, they begged
the captain to do what Ruch a worthy gen-
tleman asked. Ho pretended to yield to
their entreaties, and the King got safe to
Normandy.
Ireland being now subdued, and Scotland
kept quiet by plenty of forts and soldiers
put there by Oliver, the Parliament would
have gone on quietly enough as far as fighting
with any foreign enemy went, but for getting
into trouble with the Dutch, who in the
spring of the year one thousand six hundred
and fifty-one, sent a fleet into the Downs
under their Admiral Vax Troxp, to call
upon the bold English Admiral Blake (who
was there with half as many ships as the
Dutch) to strike his flag. Blako fired a
raging broaddde instead, and beat off Van
Tramp, who, in the autumn, came back again
with seventy ships, and challenged the bold
Blake — who still was only half as strong —
to ri;!ht him. Blake fought him all day, but
finding that the Dutch were too many for him,
got quietly olF at night What docs Van
Tromp upon thifi, but goes cruising and boast-
ing about the Channel, between the North
Foreland and the Isle of Wight, with a great
Dutch broom tied to his masthead, as a sign
Uint he could and would sweep the English
otr the sea! Within three months, Blake
lowered his tone though, and his braom too;
for, he and two other bold commanders. Dean
and Monk, fought him three whole days, took
twenty-three of his ships, shivered his broom
to pieces, and settled his buKincss.
Things were no sooner quiet again than the
army began to complain to the Parliament
that Ihcy were not governing the nation pro-
perly, and to hint that they thought Uicy
could do it better themselves. Oliver, who
had now mode up his mind to be the head
of the state, or nothing at all, supported them
in this, and called a meeting of officers and his
own Parliamentary friends, at his lodgings in
Whitehall, to consider the best way of getr
ting rid of the Parliament It had now
lasted just as many years as the King's un-
bridled power had lasted, before it came into
existence. The end of the deliberation was
that Oliver went down to the House in his
usual plain black dress, with his usual grey
wofj^tcd stockings, but with an unusual party
of soldiers behind him. These last he left in
tic lobby, and then went in and sat down.
Presently he got up, made the Parliament a
speech, told them that the Lord had done
with them, stamped his foot and said, " You
are no Pferiiament Bring them in I Bring
them inl" At this signal the door flew
open, and the soldiers appeared. "This is
not honest," said Sir Harry Vane, one of the
members. "Sir Harry Vane!" cried Crom-
well ; " 0, Sir Harry Vane! The Lord deliver
me iirom Sir Harry Vane .'" Then he pointed
out members one by one, and said this man
was a drunkard, and that man a dissipated
fellow, and that man a liar, and so on. Then
he caused the Speaker to be walked oat
of his chair, told the guard to clear the
House, called the mace upon the table—
which is a sign that the House is sitting — "a
fool's bauble," and said, "Here, cany it
away 1" Being obeyed in all these orders, he
quietly locked the door, put the key in his
pocket, walked back to Whitehall again, and ,
told his friends, who were still asscmbkd
there, what he had done. ,
They formed a new Council of State after
this extraordinary proceeding, and got a new j
Parliament together in their own way : which >
Oliver himself opened in a sort of sermon, and
which he said was the beginning qf a peiiect
heaven upon earth. In this parliaaicnt there
sat a well-known leather-aeUer, vho had takaa
the singular name of Pruae God BarebMiei^
and from whom it was called, for a jokc^
Barebones's Parliament, though its genenl
name was the Little Parliament As it soon
appeared that it was not going to put Oliver
in the first place, it turned out to be not atiD
like the beginning of heaven upon earth, and
Oliver said it really was not to be borne with.
So he cleared off that Parliament in much tht
same way as he had disposed of the other;
and then the council of officers decided that
he must be made the supreme authority of
the kingdom, under the title of the Lori
Protector of the Commonwealth.
So, on the sixteenth of December, one tho»
sand six hundred and fifty-three, a great pM-
ccs.sion was formed at Oliver's door, an'd bt
came out in a black velvet suit and a hjg
pair of boots, and got into his coach and went
down to Westminster, attended by the judgMt
and the lord mayor, and the aldermen, ui
all the other great and wonderful pervomga
of the country. There, in the Court of Clwt'
eery, he publicly accepted the oGBce of Lori j;
Protector. Then ho was sworn, and the CStf
sword Was handed to him, and the seal «ai
handed to him, and all the other things wot j
handed to him which are usually handed I* |
Rings and Queens on state occasions, and
handed back again. When Oliver had bandel ^
them all back, he was quite made and oqb' |
pictcly finished off as Lord Protector ; aid '
several of the Ironsides preached about il
at great length, all the evening.
Biu.n AiiD Biotmju, rriaton m4 SuraMjpMi, S) North WiillMi Slm^ N<w T«k.
" Familiar in their Mouths aa UOUSEIIOLD WORDS:'
--«•€« 4 AarBAiB.
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
A WEEKLY JOURXAL
CONDUCTED BY CHARL.ES DICKENS.
Vol. VIII.
McELRATH 4 BARKER. PUBLISHERS.
WuQL* iVo. 187.
I
THE MODERN PRACTICE OF PHYSIC.
KinEKOfs introductory lectures were <lc-
liTcrcd in the vnriouii ho.tpitals of London
on the first and third days of October, at the
comniciicvine-nt of thu winter session. I h.nve
bv«n reading them, and desire leave, as an
apothecary of the norLd, to add one more
lecture to the number. Prelections to the
student let there ahvaja l>c Fill his mind
with a sense of the duties he will tnko upon
hiuiM'lf when he becomes pnictitioni-r of
physic. But I am very strongly of opinion
th»t there is an oration due also to the
patients upon whom he i.s hereafter to prac-
tise, and I ask penuifision fortlnvith lo ilia-
chfirgc the debt
Lndies and gentlemen, the Iccfttrc-rooms
of the medical Kchuols in thLs metropolis are
now HUed wilh younp men well or ill pre-
p.ared for study ; hoficful or careless, sensible
or Rilly; who will by very different paths
ttJTivc at the privilege of bleeding, blistering
or bandaging your persons, Rcsptctuble in-
dividuals who are hereafter to select for
themselves doctors from among these young
men, will make their choice. Every one of
them will, I have no doubt, take caro to
place himself or herself in the hands of a
respectable pructitioncr. ^Vhat does that
mean ? Am / respectable, for instance ?
My own secret opinion is that I am not.
I attend a great many families who keep my
Fnrsc in health while I keep them in physic,
dress in black, wear itpertaclc.s, am rather
baM, and keep a brougham ; but I am a
humbug, if my conscience is not very much
deceived. I could not help it, and I cannot
alter it To make such a confession in my
own name would be/elo de se, ami I have no
right to do it Anonymously, however, I can
venture to be candid.
The truth is that I Icnow very little indeed
A)>out my profession. As a student, at the
opening of three successive sessions, I wai9
warmed n little by my teachers into good
designs of study ; but I was so foud of pleasure
that I could accomplish very little indeed I
hiid a youth's relish for fun, and a youth's
disrelish for labour. Not that I was ab.so-
lutely idle. I attended a very fair number of
lectures, slurred over a good many "parts"
in the dissecting room, went round with the
Voi-VIIL-No. 18T
physicians and the surgeons to the bedsides ;
but I did not fix attention properly on any-
thing or anybody that meant work. I was
not by any means the idlest fellow at St
Poultice's, and I do not think that there was
any active harm in nic. I was quiet enough
to be thought well of by the lecturei'h, and
to be considered quite respectable, and better
than an average St. Poultice roan, even in those
days of initiation. It was often thought that
I could cisily have taken honours in some
classes had I tried for them. When the time
carao for passing my c.vaminations at the
Moll and College, I grew rather nervous; for
I knew myself so well, as to be quite sure
that my attainments would not bear a closo
investigation. My ners'ousness was tempered
bv a spring of hope arising from two sources :
One was the knowledge that at the Col-
lege of Surgeons the examination (which
was only on two subjects) would last but for
an hour ; during M'hicb I should be cut into
four quarters and divided among four sets of
exaniincrs, each of whom would have little
civilities to say at starting, and might spend
even as much, I trusted, as tivo minutes
B-piece over them, in consideration of the
fact that they all knew, and would think it
polite to ask after, my father,
At the Uall, my hope lay in the fact con-
cerning (he examining apothecaries, that
each of them was supposed to keep seta of
cxatuination.s, got up by him as an actor gets
up parts. Every such lino of business was
known, and taught publicly to mo and to my
fellow pupils during our hospital walking
time l:>y certain gentlemen called grinders;
who also kept duplicates of all the drug bottles
exhibited in trays on the examination tables.
They also in those days — I do not know how it
may be now- — even contrived to get from
Chelsea gardens, on the morning of examina-
tion, duplicates of all the plants that had been
sent down to Blackfriars on the previous eve-
ning, to be named by candidates for the apo-
thecaries' license. The Hall, therefore, could
be passed after grinding for a few months
without any prcviou.<} study. I ground at
second-hand ; borrowing the notes and infor-
mation gathered by a friend who was himself
in attendance on u grinder. Yet I passed ; I
went through the .Surgeons' with a flourish.
In justice to the Apotbocaries X ohould ai^
170
HOUSEHOLD -WORDS.
that Uicy almost njcctcd me ; but tho scale
tiii'iivd linally in my favour when T was asked
the quantities of opium put into the several
c<>ni])Ounds of tlic pharmacopcEia that con-
(aiiu'd that drug. It was one of tho stock
questions of the place, of which my friend
hail written down the answer for me on the
liiu'k of his visiting card. I ha(l nothing like
an idea on the subject ; but I knew tho list
by heart, and had it at that moment near my
heart, for it was in my waistcoat pocket. So
1 paKsed, and became licensed to practise.
Immeiliately afterwards, I took charge of a
l.'krge pauper Union. There was no time fur
Itudy, and there never has been any since ; for
I have prospered, and I should have had no
heart fur study had I foiled. I look solid and
oracular, deal to a judicious extent in jokes;
which arc I find accepted best and repeated
oftcncst as mine, when they arc not my
own. I understand my patiocts' characters
and humoura; althongh I do not understand
their maladies so well as I could wish. Of
course I take care not to let that ftct be sus-
pected. Profound in tact, I give to no one
reason for supposing that there can be any-
thing l>etwcen consumption and nail-cutting,
that I do not scientifically understand. I am
considered to be especially able in respect to
chest diseases ; and I use the stethoscope — by
which I am supposed to hear the sounds that
bi-tray physical order or disorder — with much
(Ti-aoe and prnvity. I never yet hcani any-
thing more than a general bumping, which I
take to be produced by the patient's heart,
and a crepitation which I believe to be
causwl by the hairs of my wliiskers rubbing
against the woovl. Nobo«iy knows that, how-
oviT. .Ml that is known about ine is that I
am, as before confesseil, a re.<pectable practi-
tioner in the world's esteem, grave and a little
laid, and that I keep a brougham. Ladies
and gi>ntlemen, I may this very day have
written out my fiat for six draughts for one
of yon. Nevertheless, let no one tremble;
for if it .<sho\ild be so, the clwnces are nine-
tvvn to one that I have ordered vou a little
h.innless elferx-csocnt, or a drauglit coloured
with T. (."aril. (.\\, which is somethii\g inno-
ci-nt and annnatio. I do not prescribe sa-
vag»>ly. I live in fear of my own ignorance
and do no active harm.
Permit me now, ladies and gentlemen of
the world, as an aj^othecary of the world,
gravely to call your attention to the very
larg* nuniWr of young men who have re-
it-ntly be*n exhoiivtl on the subject of the
studies upon which they enter, and the duties
tlwy will l»ve to undemke. lietween thirty
and seventy fK'sh youths enter every OoioKt
at each hospital a"s recruits to the" rsr.ks of
the MiHlieal annv. They believe thonisi'lvts
to Ik' tfvminiitted to an honest cal'inc— as
iiuievtl llicr* is none in the world honestcr or
wiwthier of gvneral n-sivet— ;v» embark 0:1 a
wide ocean of knowtetlg*. If ihey are :hem-
■•Itm honest attd high-minded, they will do
80 ; but, if they look at me and think much
of my brougham, it may possibly come into
their heads that it is not worth their while
to venture very far to sea. The studies con-
nected with the practice of medicine have so
much in them of truth and vitality, of real
and deep philosophy, that it is impossible for
them not more or less to entai^, strengthen,
and at the same time refine the mind. They
produce, therefore, a body of men, even at
this day, second to no other class in its col-
lective dignity; but the profession is not
what it ought to be. The dim shadow of thdr
future careers — felt alike by the students and
by their teachers, when introductoiy oratioDS
open the campaign of study with allusions to
the work that is before them — sends a touch
of sadness to the mind of a pound, shilling; and
pence surgeon like me. I am a sham mTsel(
but I can respect what is genuine in othen;
and I have very good reason to know that
the profession would shine more than it does,
if public ignorance did not eat into it like a
rusL
Is thit right, for example? An old lady
came under my care who would have none a
my physic. She had a prescription from Ike
great Dr. Podgy, which she wished ae tt
make up. She was absolutely in lore viik
Dr. Podgy, and told me so much aboothil
ways and manners, that I, in my compin-
tivc humility and innocence, administered fix
humbug he prescribed in stronger doM
than gm>d tact would prompL Kcverthdea
Dr. Podgy seemed not to have erred in Ibt
low estimate he put upon the public under
standing. He was the king of a provnod
town; and, although he had written nothisf
and had done nothing to obtain the sbadov
of a name among his brethren who were q*
lified to understand his meritn, he had eat
of the most profitable medical practice! ii
Europe. I doubt whether there was its t^
out of London. Very well. The invahakh
prescription of Dr. Podgy (which consisted ii
Epsom salts diffused in an infusion of naei^I
made up several times. Some sudden mitiN
of weakness caused the old lady to travel ■
one day to see the great man and ctarf
with him once more. He told her he vo)"
' add something strengthening to her Mdcrip
I tii>n. He did so, and the learned recipe easi
\ hack to me to be made up. Dr. Po<^i*'
: solved to strengthen the old lady w:lli >
little steel, and had accordingly added if
sulphate of iron to the salts and the rs^
By so doing, in ignorance of a chemical t^
known even among druggist's boys, he ff*
his pretty roses altogether, and caused V I
mixture to look li'tce a bottle of bad int *: !
cannot t.^ke that filthy mess,** said ™.*fl!'
lady. " You have made some mistake^* ^ I
Podgy Cv-'uld rot be wrong and die la^ ' 1
moT« to do with me : I was summarilj 'j I
misseiL Now. dvvs it speak well for the Pj* I
sense ef the pubHo. when it is stated^!
, to this Dr. Podgy there hare been dccx^ |
Ckart* IlHkaM.1
THE MODERN PRACTICE OP PHYSIO.
171
in hia own ton-n, the honours of a public
statue? At the same time I know a dozen,
und the world could reckon up more than
a hundred physicians who are niun of
Bcience, who are incorporating thtir names
with the history of their art, and who, for
want of a duo practical recognition of their
merits by the doctor-needing public, are
doomed for the term of their natural liii'es
to cat cold mutton and wear rusty clothes.
Ladies and gentlemen, you certainly will
benefit yourselves if, when 3'ou select yoiir
own attendants froui the coming race of
medical practitioners, you look less than your
forefathers have looked to tact and exterior
manner, and institute a strict search after
skill and merit Attend, I entreat you, less to
the recommendatioas of your nurses and your
neighbours, and prefer rather physicians
who have obtained honour among men really
quaJifted to pass a verdict upon their attain-
ments. Now, if a man labours much in his
profession with his head at homo when he
ought to bo dining out and winning good
opinion.-; '■•• '■'- ""-''"lity and by the geni-
ality ol' •' deportment, ho is
couiinutilj. - ^ .i theorist, and left to
eat the covers of bis hooks, or to nibble his
pen. Most of the really first-rate medical
practitioners indeed who have obtained large
pracliceti, had manner as well as matter in
them, tact as well as talent.
There may be some justice in this disposi-
tion of things •, but, that the use of a httle wise
dianiiitination by the public in the choice of
medical uticndanLs, would stimulate the
students more than all the introductory ora-
tions that were ever spoken, and, in due time,
e.\alt the whole profession — strengthening
very much its power to do good — 1 think 1
can make evident
When I hinted at alittlc sadness that accom-
panied the thought of the respective futures
of tho students now at work in all our
hospitals, a retrospect lay at the bottom of
my mind. I can go back to my own student
times ""'^ rccal the groups that sat about
mo in the lecture-room. Enough lime hns
elapsed to let me see, in very many cases,
how they have been dealt with by the world.
I do not know whether it is everywhere so,
but at St Poultice's there is, or used to be, a
spirit of fellowship abroad. There is a band
of us alive, Drmly believing that St Poultice's
never had so good a set of men studying
together as there were in our titnc. So wc,
who were "respectable" there, think of each
other, ignoring the tag-rag which belongs to
every other and all other ti:uc. I supjiose
that students of each year grow up in tho
satisfaction of the same persuasion. Never
mind that One consequence of this fellow
feeling is, that we who are at work (or
playj together look and inquire much after
one another. If I meet Brown he knows
where Thompson i.-s, and must tell nie how
Thompson is getting on. I, having seen
Jenkins lately, tell all I know of hint Every
one of US « a repertory of the histories of
nearly all his old companions at St Poultice's.
So complete is our feeling in this way, that
I was stopped in the road by a gentleman
the other day. " Your name," he said, " ia
Point"
" Yes," I replied ; " and yours, I think, is
Comma." 1 didn't know him at all, but
guessed at hazard that he must be some
SL Poultice man.
" No," he said, " I'm Colon. What are you
doing'/ How are you getting on?" Wo
exchanged questions and cards and shall
vi.sit ; but I am confident that when we were
at hospital together we never exchanged two
words. Wo were not acquaintancis nt all ;
merely in fact seeing each other tlicrc occa-
sionally.
Now, I will relate fairly and truly a few
cases of the after careers of Bomc of the stu-
dents I knew best There was Pump.son to
begin with, a fine manly broad-che.«ted fellow,
who worked like a steam-engine ; but kept
his work oiled so pleasantly that there was
no creak, puff, pant, or sign of labour to be
detected in hira. To see him with his tails
up before the library fire, chattering plea-
santly, you would suppose that he was a
man who scorned to fag. lie liked a game
«t billiiirds; he was a leading nicniber of
our bojit club ; ho was a leading man in
half a dozen odd things that smelt mther
of tho flower.^ than tho fruits of student
life ; but there was not one among us really
working so earnestly as Pumpsoii. He was
quick in acquisition of all kinds of know-
ledge, and ho had a taste fur everything hitel-
lectual and pleasant ; but lie toiled so tho-
roughly in his own quiet way — burning 1 do
not know how many pints of oil per month in
his own room — that he carried away the cream
of all the honours for which we were ex-
pected to compete. Finally, ho attracted
the attention of our great authorities so much,
that a good foreign appointment was offered to
him at the close of his student career. lie
declined it as l>eneath tlie aim of his ambition,
and went off, a highly trained physician, to
create a practice in a large provincial town.
I spent a week lately in Pumpson's town,
and found our old friend prosperous enough.
lie has a wife and children about him, and he
lives in a good house in bis old pleasant way;
for he has private means. Moreover, there is
nobody in the said town of Feverlon more
widely known. Pumpson is every public
body's secretary ; tho foremost man in every
scientific coterie ; great at the chess club ; great
as a lecturer at the local medical school ; great
in private circles. Nevertheless, if Pumpson
had no private means ho wotild bo thread-
bare. His revelations, in reply to Ihe " How
are you getting on V question, gave me to
iinderstatid that his professional gains would
not make hira liable for income lax. Smith
and Jone^ members of the Fcvcrtoa public^
I
I
HOUSEHOLD WOROa
I
I
BCTerflliy oflercd to tell me in confldcntial
chat ovi-r their tables, who was the rising roan
of the locality.
" Whoisit?" laskfd.
" Why," tbcy said, " Putnpson. Wonder-
fully able tnnn."
"" Docs he attend your fomily t" I asked of
Mr. Smith.
" Why no," he replied, " when T want a
physician I always call in Dr. Droney. I
am rattiiT nfraid, to t*;!! you the truth, of
Puinpson's clcTemcss. lie might be wishing
to trv some new remedies upon me. I mther
dread a 6<.-icntitlc man, because he is bo liable
to make experiments."
Pumpson begnn life with money and talent :
Bilchcr had neither. In ponre respects
Pump.ion and Bilcher at St. Poultice's con-
tra.<itod greatly with each other. Pumpson
was ahvays well and neatly dres.wd : Bilcher
\n» always shabby and awkward. Pumpson
had a remarkably wide ranpe of ideas : Bilchcr
a peculiarly narrow one. Pumpson leflmcd n
gre.'tt de.ll with no show of working: Bilcher
picked up very little, althoug;h he was always
to be .seen grubbing lor knowledge. All his
spare time Bilchcr spent in the disj;erllnp
room ; and, as he was not fond of soup and
water, it was not the pleasantest accident
that could befal one of us in the day to hare
to shake hnndu with Bilcher. He was an
amiable fellow, rery much liked ; but you
would have fyiid that he was allopether too
slow to pel forward in a busy world. tViit of
his profe8.«ion he had no ideas ; and in it,
although he worked for them very hard, he
never could pet any students' honours.
Bilcher in doe time passed ; and eleclritleii us
all immediately afterwards by marryinp; a
flishionable widow with a thousand a ye&r.
She was twenty years his senior, and made
him father to a young lady of his own age.
After that Bilcher cleaned himself and clothed
his neck in a white napkin very thick with
starch. Bilcher then grravcly contemplated
the world from the top of his collar, and the
world looked up tn htm. Bilcher has now an
extensive practice. He keeps two carringcs,
and l>oasts to ua of ducheeses whom he
attends.
In the conntdcrable town of Shrcdby, Porson
IB established as physician : a man of filrict
religious principle whom, ns a medical student,
I respected preally, and whom I Ktill no less
respect. We were not very intimate, V'tause
he wa."! not fond of amusement, and I was.
Porson studied seriously, and learned his
profession in a fjuiet conscientious way. He
showed no abilities. The reward of all his
industry as a student was one Third Cer-
tificate of merit, which ho obtained in a
class when there happened to be only three
men who competed for its honours. Being
in Shrcdby recently I met Porson, who
invited me to tea, and gave me muffins. I
found bim living on his profession very com-
fortably ; then in mature life and about to
marry. lie told mc solemnly (T never saw
him laugh, a.^ youth or man) that ho waa
doing very wlIL His Third Certificate hung,
framed and glaxed, over the chairs in his
consulting-room. I found by inquiries in the
town that he was a very thriving man ; for,
being conscientionsly diligent in his attend-
ance on the Independent Chapel — he wa* an
Independent — the whole Independent body
looked upon him as the fittest man to give
advice to them upon their (leshly ailments.
Partleby is another of our old set at St
Poultice's. He was, and still is, not ten
deeply imbued than Porson with relieioua
principle and feeling; but he was at leftst
ten times more clever. Partleby had a taste
for literature ; read EngliHh, FVench, and
German authors ; wrote verses that were
almost poedcal ; but he was not less atten-
tive to his studies. He was a conscien-
tious working student, distinpuishe*! himself
in two or three cla-sscs, and liked his pro-
fession. He was a perfect gentleman in miod
and manners when he went into the world, •
well trained surgeon and an ncroniplisfaKKl
man. But he stands only tlvc fuct
.shoes; looks small in a ro<"" ••
thoughts of his own; says •-
for which people arc not pat'j , . ., .,.i.au86
they do not understand tlicm, and are there-
fore annoyed with him. He is thence con-
sidered odd ; and having bought a practice
worked at it with the mo.«t unremitting
application ; married on it, and at last found
that it would not keep his children. Par-
tleby then bought a partnership with a man
whose religious feeling pleased him. The
man pro^-ed to be a rnguo in saint's clothing.
Partleby was cheated of the iiri>llts due to
him ; and at the end of the tcnn of yoaiv
for which the partnership had been made,
the false saint — an incompetent practitioner
— carried off all the patients, Partleby WM
thus left, after twenty years of work, rerj
much where he was when he began the
world. His practice now consists of fire
small fiimilies, who cannot be at all timet
ailing. The energies of Partleby arc broken
down. If ho had not belonged to a famdy
able to keep his bark afloat for him, he
would have sunk years ago, and would by this
time have died. If ho had not a n-ligious
mind and a clear con.science, he would have
been throuphout his career very wretched.
Hurdle, another of our set, prospers and
deserves prosperity ; but what prico has ho
paid for it ? Possessed of n fine intellect ho
vowed it all to his profession ; worked in-
tensely, r.nd had not been half-a-<lozen years
in the world before he had achieved, by
original research, an European reputa-
tion. Some 3-enr8 ago I congratulated him
on his prosperity. " You have got on well,
Biirrlle," I .said ; " and if ever a man earned
Ilia prosperity ynn hsve."
" No," he replied, *• I have not got on. It
is s question between science and pudding.
1
I
I' great-minded enough to remain
0ie lovo of my profesHion ; eo I
ifi up my mind to leave oS* cuiti-
|| and cullJratc ihc public." Burdle
^ Ittreatened, nfid is growing rich.
I true in lii.s cnae ttutt tlie patients
^ne to htm, Lare gone to a most
i &nd ftble man, wliose knowleflge
Ubair floafldenco. It is not, bon--
piat rM80D that be prospers; ho
t restraint on himself and thrown
jOver the light that was in him.
f in foot, to be rich in spito of all
rand attaimDcnlSk
I not the whole case that I, as an
^of the world, wish ti:) lay before
land gentlemen, but there is here
iough of iL Some men there are,
In them a spark of that high cner^
Uiey are enabled not only to ment
ii to secure also the attainment of
I deserts. That energy belongs to
rl have no fkillt at all in obscure
But the great masa of a profu^-
I not cotisiiit of men gifted with
Iry povTcrs; and, in the discrimi-
ireen ita rcspeclivo member.^ —
Sf medical men certainly —
' CB are madu by the public
my intention to be roctaphy-
rn my wit to be too shallow
,$ny one to dive at all deeply
kuues of these fiicts that I have
|l I only state tticm and affirm
i I think I can affirm also that a
{ of these tilings is acquired very
pT Btudcntf^ of Medicine, if they do
[▼ery out*iet bring it with them to
lla. I believe, also, that the errors
blic, when the students arc trans-
b pracUtioniTn, tend in the highest
loduce young and struggling men
tone of fueling or a line of conduct
r much at odds with the spirit of
kical and liberal profession. I think
Could be more study among pu|)ilK,
t deal less that is disreput:tltlu
practices of surgeons and physi-
all knew that the public look
\ 10 judge us on our own respective
I gentlemen and ladies must not
eirca the whole art of healing
iphlet or a handbill, and then
' attended by that person among
ock of knowledge seems to be
level to the contents of such a
I Neither must wc bo chosen for
fed merit in our coats, our carriages,
k If Smith has a greyer head, and
flicker skull than mine, let not his
|m a start in the race with me for
Jencc. I cannot underttkke to tell
/ people ought to nsc, in regard
ludgment they possess; ncverthc-
, that, on the whole, they could da
tliey now do, if they tried. 1
may be lecturing to the winda, or I may not
Should, however, any amendment take place
in the public understanding of the respective
merits of practitioners, I shall not fail to
become aware of iL For I am afraid that it
will cause me to put down my brougham.
THE EVE OP A JOURNEY.
A RESPECTABLY drciwed middle-aged woman
sat in the window-seat in the fine old hall
of Chedbury Castle. There was nothing
remarkable in her appearance, except a look
of settled yet patient anxiety, which deepened,
as the short October's day drtw near to its
close and broad slanting sunset gleams and
shadows stole acro.s.s the quiet little shrubbery
and grass plot, upon vrhich she looked out
fixedly. The servants, after having made her
the offer of refreshment — whi<'h she declined
— came and went upon their variou.s errands,
witlioiit auy apparent consciousness of her
pn'8<nce. And this was an occasion upon
whioh a personage of higher note might very
e.'Lsily have been overlooked: one of those
times of general bustle, preparation, and de-
lightful confui^ion, when everybody seems to
be busy helping some